


Autonomy

by Amethystina



Series: Autonomy [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Tony too while you're at it, Brainwashing, But it will take a while before we get there, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions of Suicide, Fluff, Gen, HYDRA is an ideology spread through a parasitic brain virus, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Involuntary Medical Procedures, M/M, Mind Control, Multiple Personalities, PTSD, Panic Attack, Science Fiction, Someone please give Bucky a hug, Space Opera, The usual Winter Soldier tags, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 114,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending years under HYDRA's control the last thing Bucky wants is to return to their ranks. He does so only because his situation provides an invaluable opportunity to infiltrate the most impenetrable army in the galaxy — his own discomfort is a small price to pay for the lives he might save in the future.</p><p>Three months is all he can take before he decides to throw his cover and find his way back to Steve, HYDRA hot on his heels. With him, Bucky has a memory drive of stolen information and a second personality sharing his body, courtesy of HYDRA’s brainwashing. </p><p>All Bucky wants is to deliver the information to Steve and the Alliance and <em>finally</em> return home, but when his ship is damaged he has no choice but to stop for emergency repairs. He's directed to 'The Mechanic,' who can supposedly help, but Bucky isn't exactly comforted when he meets the man in question.</p><p>But with HYDRA breathing down his neck Bucky doesn't have a choice — he's going to have to trust this Tony, whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitty_Kinneas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Kinneas/gifts).



> This is, believe it or not, the _bonus_ WinterIron Holiday Exchange gift for [Kitty_Kinneas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Kinneas). I drew art as requested (which is the _actual_ gift) but got a little carried away because I liked the prompts so much and wrote a fic too. Whoops. 
> 
> This is a _gigantic_ Space AU where I might have gone a little overboard with the world building, but hey, at least I had fun? I just couldn't help myself once the idea took hold. I'm having a _blast_ , anyway, and I hope you will as well! Tony is a couple of years younger than in the actual MCU here, due to changes in the timeline. Also, yes, Knowhere as well as the currency (units) is borrowed from _Guardians of the Galaxy_ , because it saved me a shitload of work. This is, however, not a crossover.
> 
>  **EDIT 2018/05/05:** Did I just add a prologue to a fic I wrote two years ago? Yes, yes I did. ENJOY.

 

* * *

 

The only sound Bucky could hear was the loud, rapid beating of his own heart, drowning out the soft hum of the spaceship around him. He tried to maintain his calm — now was not the time to panic — but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to keep his breaths even. His gaze was fixed on the computer screen in front of him, his fingers flying over the dimly lit controls.

He only had about four minutes before an operator would catch wind of what he was doing — six at the most.

Bucky knew there was no going back from this. The moment he had locked himself in the cramped control room and sat down in front of the terminal, his fate was sealed.

It was now or never.

Logging in to the network had been easy, his fingers remembering the username and password even if he had never used them before. Finding the files was a little harder, but only because Bucky wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. He needed information — anything that would help the Alliance to eradicate HYDRA once and for all — but there were so many folders to sift through.

It surprised him that there were no safeguards for him to get past — no hidden alarms or other passwords required aside from the one he had already typed in. Bucky had full access to HYDRA's entire database, either because his account's security clearance was high enough to override them all, or because HYDRA had never considered the possibility of an inside threat.

Bucky was fairly certain it was the latter.

As far as HYDRA knew, their soldiers were perfectly obedient — mindless puppets meant only to follow orders.

All but one.

Bucky grit his teeth and began transferring files to the portable drive he had hooked up to the computer. HYDRA would be aware of his betrayal soon enough, even if they probably wouldn't know how or why he had done it. Bucky's memory of the past couple of years was patchy at best, but he knew for a fact that the Winter Soldier had never defied orders before, let alone broken into the network in order to steal sensitive information. That would never even have been an option, had Bucky not been able to wrestle back control over his body.

As if sensing his thoughts, the presence at the back of Bucky's mind stirred. Bucky still wasn't entirely sure what it was — he had no name for the sentient, parasitic life form now living inside his head — but he knew it came from the virus HYDRA injected into everyone they captured, be they soldiers or civilians.

Bucky had been taken at the tail end of the war, wounded and delirious, and HYDRA had wasted no time before they started the process of rebuilding him. First came the virus, which had burned like ice through his veins and erased everything that he used to be, creating something else in its stead. Then they had given him the arm, made out of cold, ruthless metal that shifted and whirred as he moved. And then, somewhere along the way, that other presence had taken over, pushing Bucky to the deepest, darkest corners of his own mind, helpless and weak.

It had taken years — more than Bucky wished to count — before he had regained control.

Unfortunately, the presence had remained even after that — like a monster lurking in the shadows, just waiting for a chance to strike. It haunted him night and day, always watching — always keen to exploit his weaknesses.

The only reasons why Bucky hadn't given in yet were Steve and his need for redemption. Bucky couldn't even remember everything he had done over the past couple of years — the missions HYDRA had sent the Winter Soldier on and the number of people who had been killed by Bucky's hand — but he knew he had to repent. He knew he had to do something to stop HYDRA before the threat grew to become as big as it had been at the time of the war.

No one even knew that HYDRA still existed, since people believed they had gone extinct after the end of the war. No one would see them coming unless Bucky was able to find enough information to expose them — to help the Alliance defeat them once and for all.

Bucky kept looking through folders and directories, copying those he thought would be useful, all while trying to ignore the presence at the back of his head. It disapproved of what he was doing. Bucky couldn't say how he knew or why the creature even _had_ emotions, but he had decided not to acknowledge it.

He was just about to consider himself done — Bucky had to leave as soon as possible, before any alarms were tripped — that he saw a gathering of files that made his heart stop cold in his chest. Bucky's eyes widened in horror as he scrolled through the list, breath stuck in his throat and a lump of dread settling in his stomach.

It couldn't be.

Bucky swallowed and quickly transferred the entire folder, forcing his hands to stop shaking. He didn't have time to break down.

While Bucky had only been looking for intel that might help them in the future, he had found something much worse — something that could mean the end of the Alliance and the free world.

He had to get this information to Steve.

Bucky watched the progress bar fill with agonizing slowness, his body thrumming with pent-up energy. The tension was getting to him after three months undercover within HYDRA and this new revelation didn't help in the slightest. Had this been earlier — before HYDRA — his leg might have bounced up and down with impatience, but his training didn't allow that. He sat in the chair, stiff and barely breathing, waiting for the files to download.

As soon as the transfer was completed, Bucky disconnected the memory drive and slid it into his pocket. He had always planned to leave straight after the data theft — staying would be suicide — but a new urgency fuelled him now. He quickly logged out from the terminal and got to his feet.

He had to get the memory drive to Steve.

Three quick strides took Bucky across the room, where he held up his right hand in front of the scanner by the door. It only took a second before he was rewarded with a cheerful beep, followed by the door sliding open. Bucky almost expected the alarm to start blaring, but it remained blissfully quiet.

Despite his urge to just _run_ , Bucky forced himself to calmly step out of the control room and head toward the hangar where his spaceship was docked. It was a reflex to straighten his spine, emulating the Winter Soldier's way of moving. A part of him was afraid that he would be too tense to do it properly — that he would make someone suspicious and get stopped before he got to his ship — but he seemed to fool the officers he passed.

Bucky made his way through the winding corridors of the HYDRA ship, following instincts and muscle memory rather than any actual knowledge of the layout. The Winter Soldier had walked them many times.

When Bucky eventually reached the hangar, he was a nervous wreck, for once grateful for the mask and dark goggles covering his face, hiding the fear he knew had to be written plainly in his eyes. There were other people in the hangar — soldiers and officers preparing for some sort of mission — but Bucky simply walked past them, hoping that if he showed enough purpose, no one would question his presence.

It worked surprisingly well — at least for a while.

Bucky managed to get inside his ship and had just pressed the button to close the ramp when the alarm went off. It shrieked through the hangar, bouncing against the barren steel walls, making Bucky jump in fright.

Someone had figured out what he had done.

He could hear shouts outside — officers ordering soldiers to head for Bucky's ship and stop him — and knew he had run out of time. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and ran for the bridge. The ramp might not have closed yet, but if he lingered too long, the operators would have time to shut the doors leading out from the hangar. If they did, he would be trapped inside the HYDRA ship and no doubt executed in a not-too-distant future.

Bucky skidded onto the bridge, slamming his hand onto the control panel to stop his momentum. The screen lit up at his touch, waking from hibernation mode. Bucky had done all the preparations beforehand — disabled transmitters, unhooked trackers, and left the engines on standby — and his ship eagerly hummed to life as he slid into the pilot seat. He bypassed the pre-flight checklist entirely and instead coaxed her into the air the second he got his hands on the controls.

The presence at the back of his head was twisting and snarling, its restlessness sending a sharp spike of pain through Bucky's skull. He grit his teeth and forced himself to focus on getting out alive — something he knew would be easier said than done.

It was with only seconds to spare that Bucky managed to fly his ship out from the hangar, the doors slamming shut just as he slipped through the narrowing gap. His heart was thundering in his chest, but his hands were steady as he set his course. He knew HYDRA would only be a step behind — fighters were no doubt being deployed already — and his only chance to escape was to outrun them.

Another sharp lash from the parasite made Bucky wince in pain, but he kept his eyes on the monitor, refusing to give in. The data drive in his pocket was much too important. He had to get it to Steve.

If he didn't, millions would die.

Bucky hadn't gotten far before his ship was rocked by the first plasma missile, red, angry alarms lighting up across his screen. He knew he couldn't take many hits — his ship wasn't built for battle — but there wasn't much he could do to stop them, either. He would simply have to trust his ability to outfly the fighters on his tail.

Bucky allowed himself a deep, fortifying breath before he looked back at the controls, knowing he would have to do some quick maneuvering to avoid being shot down. After that — once he had shaken off his pursuers — he would contact Steve and arrange a time and place to meet.

No matter what, Bucky had to get that drive to Steve, as quickly as possible.

Another missile hit, nearly throwing Bucky out of his chair, his ship screaming in protest at the damage it was taking. Bucky ignored the flashing alarms and quickly tapped to increase the ship's speed. The presence at the back of his head was snarling, but that, too, was ignored. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted.

Far too much was at stake and Bucky would be damned if he gave up now.

No matter what it took, he would make sure that HYDRA was destroyed, once and for all. With the data drive inside his pocket it was no longer a mere fantasy, but an _actual_ possibility — as long as he managed to get the intel to Steve. If Bucky did that, the Alliance might finally be able to rid the galaxy of the threat that had been hanging over them for decades.

And maybe — just maybe — Bucky could find his redemption.

He could only hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [Imafriendlydalek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek) betaed everything aside from the prologue, which [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu) was kind enough to help me with! Thanks to you all! You are awesome <3
> 
> You can find the post with the art [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/135657345531/this-is-my-gift-for-it-just-slipped-out-as-a-part) and my Tumblr [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/). Also, this might very well be the prettiest banner I have ever drawn. Fancy that.


	2. The Repair Shop

 

* * *

 

The repair shop was a complete dump. The place didn't seem to have a name, first of all, and the only available sign was barely hanging on to the grimy outside wall, the E in OPEN flickering mournfully. The shop was nestled in between two high buildings, a rowdy bar on the right and what seemed to be a pawn shop on the left, leaving the entrance hidden in darkness and slanting shadows.

If it hadn't been exactly the kind of place Bucky was looking for, he wouldn't have spared it a second glance. As it were, he needed repairs on his ship and he needed them from someone who wouldn't ask too many questions. In general, people in Knowhere were wise enough not to be too inquisitive, which was precisely why Bucky had chosen to dock there.

Bucky tried not to flinch when a group of loud drunks passed him on the street, heading for the bar. All the noise was grating on his nerves, leaving his shoulders tense and senses on high alert. The quiet, terrifying presence at the back of his mind only made matters worse, setting his teeth on edge and making him see threats where there were none. Bucky was wound tighter than was safe in a public environment, but he couldn't do much about that.

He had a mission and he was going to make sure he completed it.

Bucky ducked in between the high buildings, not giving himself time to regret his decision — or contemplate what might be hiding in the shadows that were too dark for him to see through.

The repair shop — rundown as it might be — had come recommended. Sort of. Bucky had been forced to ask one of the dock workers for a suitable place to take his ship, and had been assured that the Mechanic could build or fix pretty much anything imaginable — and some things that weren't. Bucky wasn't interested in upgrades or miraculous new tech, but he assumed that a mechanic who went by 'The Mechanic' would know the importance of discretion.

He could hear the beat of the music playing inside the bar but it seemed significantly duller in the alley, as if neither light nor sound could reach into the darkened corners. Bucky smoothly descended the four steps leading down to the heavy steel door of the repair shop, trying not to grimace at the squealing hinges.

The inside looked about as bad as the outside. There were things scattered _everywhere_. Solid steel shelves lined the walls, littered with cables and tools, and towers of spare parts had been built on seemingly randomly selected areas on the floor. Bucky decided that it was probably best if he didn't try to catalogue the objects around him — half of them looked disturbingly alien, which said quite a lot considering the vast galaxy they lived in.

A counter was on the other side of the room, behind that another steel door leading to what Bucky assumed had to be the actual workshop. This seemed more like a reception area, doubling as storage.

"How may I help you, sir?" a crisp and surprisingly polite voice asked.

Bucky tensed, his gaze flickering around the room, but he couldn't locate the owner of the voice. An AI, then, unless there was someone ducking behind the counter, which Bucky thought was highly unlikely seeing as it was part glass and fairly see-through. Bucky was again grateful for the mask and goggles covering his face, even if they had earned him some strange looks while he was out on the streets. Most AI's had built-in cameras and he couldn't risk being recognized. Not that Bucky could see any camera lenses, but that didn't mean that there weren't any.

"My ship needs repairs," he replied, almost flinching at the sound of his own voice. He wondered how long it would take before he got used to the roughness of it, which wasn't the least bit helped by the mask covering his face.

He made no move to step further into the room; if he stayed close to the door it would take him less than two seconds to duck back outside, in the events of a threat.

"What make and model?" the disembodied voice asked. Bucky appreciated the directness of speaking to a computer — they never attempted small talk.

"A Blackwing SS, model JN-657-K."

In all honesty, the ship wasn't technically Bucky's, but he had used it long enough for it to feel like his. He knew her inside and out, and might be a bit more attached than strictly necessary. Considering the circumstances — who was after him and what he was carrying — it would have been both easier _and_ more strategic to leave her behind. He could easily steal another ship to continue his journey, had it not been for the fact that he didn't have the heart to abandon her.

There were so few things that made sense to him now — things that felt familiar and safe — and he was willing to cling to what little he had.

"What kind of repairs does your ship require, sir?" The politeness was incredibly out of place in the filthy repair shop — not to mention Knowhere as a whole.

"Hull damage and minor wiring," Bucky replied, still remaining more or less motionless two steps inside the door.

He sincerely hoped the AI wouldn't ask what had caused the damage since those were the kind of questions Bucky was trying to avoid. The Mechanic would no doubt realize the moment they laid eyes on the ship — plasma cannons left rather distinct marks — but might know better than to ask who had made them. Bucky couldn't risk telling anyone about HYDRA. That information could so easily reach the wrong ears and ruin his chances of reaching Steve.

Hopefully, the Mechanic would write this off as nothing out of the ordinary — ships damaged from plasma missiles had to be pretty common in Knowhere.

"Just a minute, sir." The AI was clearly some kind of receptionist and Bucky assumed that it was reporting back to its master.

Bucky let his gaze wander as the silence settled over the room, feeling marginally more relaxed when faced with a calm, practical AI rather than a living, breathing mechanic. He didn't do well with people — not anymore.

Despite how cluttered the reception area was, the more Bucky stared, the less disorganized it seemed. Well, save for the junk on the floor. Everything else seemed catalogued after some kind of system that Bucky could hint underneath all the chaos, even if he couldn't grasp it completely.

Surprisingly enough, the counter was more or less empty, save for an old cash register that couldn't have been used in over fifty years. Bucky assumed it had been kept for the sake of atmosphere, which was something that might have made him smile before.

Nowadays, smiling was getting more and more difficult, though.

"Thank you for your patience." The AI's voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once and Bucky couldn't help wondering how many hidden speakers there were in that small room alone. "I am pleased to inform that the Mechanic will perform the required repairs. If you would be so kind to transfer five thousand units in advance, you will be given the access code and directions to the landing dock."

The surface of the counter lit up, a bright, pale blue holographic screen hovering a couple of inches above the scratched glass and steel. Bucky frowned, not only because he would have to step further into the room, but because the technology required for that kind of interface seemed misplaced in this dump.

He pushed back the faint shiver of unease — also ignoring the parasite at the back of his head, now tense and wary — before walking over to the glowing screen. His ship needed the repairs so even if the Mechanic was more than they let on, Bucky would just have to deal with that to the best of his abilities, should any complications arise.

He made sure to use his left hand when he tapped the holographic buttons to initiate the transfer. Bucky might not be overly fond of what his metal arm symbolized and all the memories connected to it, but the lack of fingerprints was certainly useful. He was also grateful for Steve's foresight of having given him access to an account he could use, since Bucky didn't have one of his own — whatever assets he had were seized years ago.

Bucky barely had time to read the notification about the transfer having been successful before the AI spoke up again.

"Thank you for your patronage, sir. The access code to the hangar is HJ4F77. Do you require the coordinates?"

"No, I'll manage." If Bucky had been able to find the front door to the repair shop, hidden in the shadows in a darkened alley, he was pretty sure he could locate the one meant for the ships. It had to be at least ten times bigger.

"I will alert the Mechanic of your arrival. Good day, sir."

Bucky got the distinct impression that had the AI had a human body, it would be bowing.

"Yeah, thanks. You too." The words slipped out on pure reflex, making Bucky feel quite stupid. Not that being polite was a bad thing, but the AI probably couldn't care less whether Bucky wished it a good day or not.

"Until we meet again, sir."

Was that just Bucky or did the AI sound _pleased_?

He shook his head and headed for the door. The trip back to the dock to fetch his ship shouldn't take more than forty minutes, and if he was lucky the repairs would be done within a day or two. The sooner he could leave Knowhere, the better.

Steve was waiting.

Bucky punched in the access code the AI had given him, letting out a soft breath of relief when the wide doors in front of him started opening. Paying in advance was always risky in Knowhere and Bucky could admit that he'd been worried that he'd just thrown away five thousand units.

Like expected, the doors to the repair shop's hangar were wide enough to fit Bucky's modest spaceship with ease. The hangar was attached to the underside of the platform the houses were built on, making it the basement, be it one hanging more or less in thin air. Knowhere, with its crisscrossing landings and multi-layered platforms, was a veritable labyrinth to navigate. Sometimes Bucky wasn't even sure how all of it managed to stick together.

Flying in to dock inside the hangar was easy enough, to the point where Bucky did it more or less on autopilot. As soon as the ship touched down, he had to take a deep, calming breath. He was going to leave his ship — his means of escape — with a complete stranger. Of course Bucky knew that he could steal another ship and be gone in a matter of minutes should anyone catch up with him, but it was the principle of the thing.

He didn't trust easy.

Bucky turned to the console on his right, his gaze flicking to the message that had remained on the screen ever since he'd received it three days ago. He hadn't been able to close it, out of the irrational fear that it might vanish out into the ether if he did, leaving him painfully alone again.

_See you at RV. Three weeks. Be careful – S_

The tightness in Bucky's chest was difficult to breathe around but he managed, if only barely. He had to stay focused. In less than three weeks, Bucky would see Steve and he'd finally get to come home. Nothing else mattered.

Bucky was going home.

After a deep breath he closed the message, ignoring the stab of panic he felt as it vanished from the screen. It was still saved on the drive. Everything was fine. The presence at the back of his head oozed condescension and Bucky grit his teeth to keep himself from snarling. He hadn't reacted to the parasite's taunting so far and he wasn't going to start now.

Bucky reached under the console and flicked open the hatch, pulling out the small memory drive. Considering the sensitive information he had stored on it, he knew better than to leave it on the ship. Some people probably wouldn't even call it snooping if they happened to stumble over it while doing repairs.

He flicked the last couple of switches before getting to his feet, slipping the drive into one of his pockets. Securing and locking up the rest took less than five minutes and, all too soon, he was waiting for the ramp to lower, revealing a rapidly widening view of the workshop.

Bucky squared his shoulders — ignoring the sneer at the back of his head — and stepped out from his ship.

The workshop looked more or less like the reception and storage area upstairs, only bigger. The room could easily fit larger ships than Bucky's, the steel rough and worn, and most available surfaces were littered with tools, gadgets, and pieces of scraps that were supposedly spare parts. The floor space was kept more or less clear, but the workshop was a complete mess all the same.

Bucky rounded his ship, following the crackling sound of welding. There, finally, he laid eyes on the Mechanic. The man was bent over some kind of metal contraption Bucky couldn't make sense of, attaching another piece of metal that only made the thing seem weirder. Two one-armed robots were holding the piece in place, while a third robot — more or less identical to the first two — let out what could only be described as a cheerful chirp. A big holographic screen hovered over the worktable closest to the man, but Bucky made no attempt to read what was on it — he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to understand it even if he tried.

The welding torch turned off so suddenly it made Bucky blink.

"I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep in there." The man straightened and pulled off the welding helmet. His dark brown hair was tousled, sticking up in at least three different directions, and there were two dark smears on his face, one on his left cheekbone and the other right next to his chin — possibly oil or grease. His smile was brilliant.

Bucky felt his heart give a surprised little skip.

The man carelessly tossed the welding torch onto the nearby table, making Bucky cringe. His reaction was, fortunately enough, hidden behind his mask.

The Mechanic seemed to be about as old as Bucky looked, had a neat goatee, alert brown eyes, and the kind of physique that suggested a lot of physical labor. He wore a black tank top, his arms irresponsibly bared considering that he'd been welding, and was in the process of pulling off his thick, protective gloves. They soon joined the welding torch on the table.

"I'm loving the whole—" the man gestured toward Bucky's face, "—escaped convict look. Do you do children's parties?"

He ploughed on without actually waiting for a reply.

"So!" The Mechanic clapped his hands together, which for some reason made the holographic screen behind him disappear. He walked — no, _sauntered_ — closer, clearly not intimidated by Bucky's countenance, even if the mask and goggles made him look far from friendly. "I'm Tony, but most people just call me The Mechanic. Capitalized."

Tony held out his hand and it was pure reflex to accept the offered handshake. It was only when Tony changed the angle so that the back of Bucky's hand was in better view that it became apparent that Tony had held out his left instead of his right — and that he must have done so on purpose. Tony wanted to look at Bucky's metal hand.

Bucky stiffened in alarm and Tony's gaze flicked up to meet his, sharp and frighteningly intelligent. Not a moment later, Tony let go, backing off with a jovial grin.

"Nice arm. Not sure why you're hiding it."

Bucky reminded himself that he was wearing his dark goggles — Tony couldn't possibly see his expression or meet his gaze. Still, for a brief second, Bucky's heart had leapt into his throat. The presence at the back of his head was agitated, unnerved by Tony's behavior — by how much he seemed to know and how fast he changed gears. The unpredictable shifts were enough to cause a flare of distrust. Bucky pushed back, quickly tamping down on the urgent need to _attack_ and _maim_ and _kill_.

He refused to explain why he had covered his arm with long, black sleeves until only the shiny metal plates of his hand were visible — that was none of Tony's business.

"You have a name?" Tony asked, taking a lazy step backwards that made his hips move in a distinctly distracting manner. Bucky also noticed that Tony was barefoot. That, more than anything, gave Bucky pause. Who in their right mind was barefoot inside a workshop? The place was littered with sharp instruments and discarded pieces of metal.

Bucky had to fight the urge to bodily lift Tony out of harm's way.

"Bucky," he replied, before he had the time to really think it through. Then again, 'Bucky' wasn't in any database. James Buchanan Barnes was, however, even if you had to go pretty far back to find him. Bucky was safer.

"Really?" Tony's smile brightened with glee. "Is that your _actual_ name? Did your parents look at you and go 'yes, this definitely looks like a Bucky to me'? Not saying that I don't like it, because I do — it's _adorable_ — but also, you know, a little _too_ adorable. Doesn't really mesh with the serial killer vibe you've got going on."

Bucky decided not to reply to that either.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Tony asked. "Hey, that's okay — each to his own. I can talk for the both of us."

Bucky wasn't even surprised when Tony switched gears without as much as a pause — the man was intense. Bucky felt like he was standing at the edge of a hurricane and he wasn't entirely sure what to hold on to in order not to get sucked in.

"So this is yours?" Tony walked toward Bucky's ship, his bare feet somehow missing every stray screw and discarded wire. "She's a wreck. What on earth did you do to her?"

The questions were rhetorical, thankfully enough. Or at least Bucky chose to take them as such, seeing as Tony kept talking.

"She's lovely. I don't see this model very often, especially not out here." Tony smoothed his hand over the hull, his fingers sliding over the damage caused by the HYDRA fighters Bucky had barely managed to escape from alive. The look Tony shot him was pointed — as if he knew exactly where the marks came from, but wasn't going to comment.

Instead he started circling the ship, Bucky following in lack of a better idea. The three bots came too, letting out a series of curious blips as they went, obviously intent on following their master.

"You'll need to replace several of the plates," Tony said, speaking just loud enough that Bucky heard him over the chattering bots. This was already turning out to be a bigger circus than he had signed up for. "I can either order plates specifically for your model or make new ones with the materials I've got."

"Whatever's quickest," Bucky replied, ignoring the curious head-tilt and raised eyebrow that earned him.

"Custom ones it is," Tony confirmed, before heading for the open ramp at the back of the ship. "May I?" His grin was teasing, with a hint of flirting that Bucky wasn't even sure how to react to.

He responded with a nod, feeling a surge of gratefulness that Tony asked before stepping aboard. Not that he was sure that Tony would have stopped even if Bucky had said no, but he appreciated the thought.

Tony didn't seem to mind walking barefoot on the grated metal of the ramp. He was practically skipping, as a matter of fact, gaze zipping back and forth, probably cataloguing every single detail in front of him. His hands fluttered to brush against the panel that closed the ramp, not actually pressing anything, then to the wall next to it, then the exposed wires Bucky had been forced to rip out and rearrange in order to get the navigator back online.

Tony was clearly one of those people who didn't seem to know what the word 'motionless' meant. Even when he stopped to inspect the damaged wiring his mind was still obviously spinning — probably faster than his body moved.

A sudden, loud rattle made Bucky whirl to face the open hatch behind him, hand automatically reaching for one of his hidden knives. Only there was no threat — just one of the bots making an attempt to scale the ramp. Its wheels couldn't quite manage the steep slope, however, and it let out a despairing little bleep.

"No, bad bot," Tony said, turning toward the robot in question. Bucky flinched when Tony's hand landed against his chest. He had no idea what the gesture meant and his fingers tightened reflexively around the hilt of his knife. "You idiot," Tony chastised. "Go back down. You can't come up here. Why would you even try to come up here? Don't make me threaten you with deportation again, dummy."

The unexpected spike of adrenaline made Bucky's heart race and it was only by remaining absolutely motionless that he managed not to lash out. He didn't like surprises or sudden noises. The pressure at the back of his head was growing and he had a hard time fighting that on top of the need to _fight_ and _defend_ and _kill_.

Tony was speaking again, directed at the bots, but Bucky couldn't hear it over the blood roaring in his ears. He managed a slow, calculated breath, oddly reassured by the weight of that hand against his chest. It felt familiar.

A memory flickered past — concerned blue eyes and gently spoken words.

_Steve._

Bucky closed his eyes and took another breath, this one deeper. The panic was receding, his locked limbs relaxing. He felt drained and trembling, even if nothing had happened.

Everything was fine.

"You good?"

The softly spoken words made Bucky's eyes snap open. There was a slight furrow between Tony's brows and even if his gaze flicked down to the knife Bucky was clutching, he didn't recoil. His hand still rested against Bucky's chest and it was difficult to tell if it was to hold him back or comfort him.

Probably the latter — the man clearly had a death wish.

Bucky held back a frustrated snarl and stepped out of Tony's reach, not liking how close he had come to losing control. That was bad enough when alone, but when he might potentially hurt innocent bystanders? Bucky would never forgive himself.

There was a brief silence, Tony's gaze calm and knowing — as if he understood exactly what had happened and why, even if Bucky's face was still covered and Tony only had his body language to go on.

"I sent the bots to bed." Tony picked up as if nothing had happened, which was surprisingly reassuring. "Now, is there any other inside damage? The wiring should be easy to fix, but I can have a look at the system too, since short circuits might cause hiccups you'd rather not have."

Bucky swallowed and forced himself to remember how to speak, subtly putting his knife away.

"How long will it take?" His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

"Well..." Tony walked further into the ship, passing the storage room and two cabins with nothing more than a cursory glance. He couldn't get inside them anyway, since Bucky had made sure to lock them. "I could have it done in two days, but that's just the basics. She'll fly, but I can't guarantee how long she'll hold out against the kind of treatment you've put her through so far." Tony turned to face Bucky, somehow managing not to trip over himself even if he was walking backwards on a completely foreign ship. "But if you give me _five_ days, I can make her _soar_."

The offer was tempting if only for how radiant Tony's smile was, but Bucky was working with a tight timeframe. He knew that Steve would be willing to wait several days if Bucky didn't show up at the appointed time, but he'd rather not make Steve worry. Not to mention that HYDRA must be looking for Bucky and the longer he stayed in one place, the more vulnerable he became.

"Three days." That was all he could spare and still remain on schedule.

Tony _pouted_ , of all things. "Fine. But I want the record to state that I think she deserves better. Make a note."

There was obviously no such thing as winning an argument against this man.

Bucky rolled his eyes and followed when Tony continued on his path toward the bridge. It was disconcerting to have someone else on his ship, even if Tony didn't look particularly dangerous. He was shorter than Bucky, for one, and clearly had less muscle mass. He moved with a peculiar grace — languid and fluid yet deceptively controlled — but he wasn't a fighter. Adding to that, the cocky, carefree smirk made it difficult to take him seriously.

Tony hummed thoughtfully while he slipped into the pilot seat on the right, turning to face the controls. Bucky had to hold back an urge to yank him out of the chair — it felt wrong for someone else to be sitting there. Both the left and right seat could be used for piloting the ship, but _of course_ Tony had to pick the one Bucky preferred. Thankfully, Tony didn't touch anything. His fingers whispered over the various switches and screens, but he didn't so much as graze them.

The way Tony's hands moved made it look like an intimate caress.

"There are probably some upgrades for the software I can toss in, if there's time," said Tony. He might in fact be speaking to himself at that point, considering how little input Bucky had offered during the conversation.

Tony turned the chair back around with a simple push, rising to his feet in the same smooth motion. He froze when he came face to face with Bucky, however, who finally saw the first flicker of uncertainty on Tony's face. Not that Bucky could blame him — Bucky was standing much closer than strictly necessary, his hand resting on the right-side console, more or less blocking Tony in. Most people would be intimidated by that.

The silence lingered for a beat, Tony glancing down at Bucky's hands as if to check for weapons. There were none, but Tony didn't relax — possibly because all he saw was a blank mask and black glass.

"This—" Tony had the audacity to tap his fingertip against Bucky's mask, right where his nose was, "—will get really old, really fast." There was no teasing in his voice, however, and Bucky could see the wariness in Tony's posture. He apparently had the capability to be serious, when the occasion called for it. "Was there anything else you wanted, Buckling, or is looming just a hobby of yours?"

That was clearly a challenge and as much as Bucky wanted to respond to it — the parasite certainly urged him to — he knew how foolish that would be. Bucky needed Tony to fix his ship since he didn't have time to find another mechanic, _or_ felt like losing the five thousand units he had already paid in advance.

"How much will it cost?" Bucky asked through gritted teeth.

Tony continued to stare up at him, even if he couldn't possibly know if Bucky was looking back or not. Tony's eyes were surprisingly big for a grown man — not to mention expressive. There was a steady confidence in that gaze that Bucky was both impressed and slightly frustrated by. Didn't the man know that self-preservation was a good thing to have?

"Fifteen thousand, maybe. Twenty, if you're unlucky with the wiring." Tony delivered the words in a way that left very little room for negotiation. Not that Bucky had intended to object. He had the funds and would rather pay up than get into an argument that would prolong his stay in Knowhere. Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "You've already paid five in advance and that will, naturally, be subtracted from the final payment."

Bucky gave a jerky nod before taking a step back. "Fine. Get it done."

Tony let out a snort, followed by a sloppy salute. "Sir, yes, sir." Somehow, Tony managed to make the words sound infuriatingly defiant.

Rather than replying with something equally scathing, Bucky turned to leave. He had delivered his ship and Tony would hopefully take care of the rest. The air felt too thick to breathe and Bucky knew he'd better get out of there as soon as possible. The presence at the back of his mind was blessedly calm, but Bucky knew that could change in an instant — the risk of losing control was greater if his nerves were already fraying.

"How will I contact you?" Tony asked, following behind Bucky as he walked through the ship.

Tony's footsteps were louder than Bucky's, even if he was barefoot.

"You don't," Bucky shot back, without pausing or as much as a glance over his shoulder. "I'll come here."

"Well, that's not creepy at all." It was only a low mutter — one Bucky wouldn't have heard if he hadn't had his enhanced hearing. Louder, Tony said, "If you say so. JARVIS — he's the AI you spoke to upstairs — will let you in."

Bucky walked down the ramp, the pressure lifting when he was no longer in such a confined space. The ship had felt too small for the two of them, probably because of how Tony seemed to monopolize whatever room he was in.

"Will he let me out too?" Bucky asked as he looked out over the hangar, trying to locate a door. There had to be one leading up to the reception area.

"That he will." Tony was easing back into his carefree, nonchalant self, despite the tension that had been between them mere seconds ago. He gestured toward the far side corner. "The door's over there. It'll take you back upstairs. Do you have everything?"

Bucky turned his head to look at Tony. The ensuing silence was enough to prompt Tony to continue, even if he did so with an eye roll. "From the ship, dearest. You know, a change of clothes, more knives, an extra set of goggles, perhaps? Do you want me to pack you an overnight bag?"

"No," Bucky replied flatly. The only thing of importance was the memory drive and it was already in his pocket.

"Fine." Tony held up his hands, palms out, but he didn't strike Bucky as the kind of person who surrendered. _Pretended_ to surrender, maybe, but never actually surrendered. "Hey, just trying to be considerate. I've been told it's something I need to work on. I'm a textbook narcissist. Nasty stuff."

The way Tony weaved sentences was incredibly distracting.

"Well, this has been lovely," Tony said, switching gears yet again, "we absolutely have to do it again sometime. JARVIS, be a dear and show Bucky out, will you?"

Tony was already heading back toward the table where he had left his welding torch.

"Of course, Sir," the AI replied smoothly. "This way, if you please, Mr. Bucky."

Never in his life had he been called Mr. Bucky and he had to hold back an amused snort. The sound of the door opening on the other end of the room — a gentle click that echoed against the barren steel walls — made Bucky push his amusement aside.

Now that his ship was getting repaired he had to find someplace where he could lay low and, if possible, send a message to Steve, just in case Bucky ended up being delayed.

Bucky threw one last look at Tony, but he was already busy pushing things around on one of his desks, hopefully making room for whatever he needed to fix Bucky's ship. A goodbye didn't seem necessary.

Bucky couldn't help wondering if he was making a mistake by trusting Tony. He seemed skilled enough — the effortless way he moved around Bucky's ship said as much, as if he had already been inside it hundreds of times, even if it was the first — but he was a very demanding person to be around. The sudden shifts and his carelessness set Bucky's teeth on edge.

Then again, he had only just barely survived an encounter with a platoon of hostile fighters, fled to a planet he knew was famous for its unsavory citizens, and been forced to leave his ship with a complete stranger. Bucky would have been tense even if Tony had been perfectly polite and serious the entire time.

The open door led to a staircase that Bucky climbed two steps at a time, soon reaching the top and another open door. Bucky was relieved to find himself in the somewhat familiar reception area, smoothly rounding the counter with its antique cash register.

"Have a good evening, sir," the AI said, just as Bucky reached for the door.

He paused, if only for a second, and found himself glancing up at the ceiling, even if he knew that the AI's cameras were probably mounted somewhere else.

"You too, JARVIS."

With that, Bucky opened the door and slipped soundlessly into the dark shadows waiting outside.

The hotel room was poorly lit and barely furnished, with one narrow window that Bucky could probably squeeze through with some luck and a bit of effort. As far as escape routes went it wasn't the best, but it would have been worse if the window was bigger. Bucky knew all too well just how easy one could locate and eliminate a target if they insisted on large windows and open-spaced floor plans.

The old Bucky would have been pacing the small room, agitated by the lack of activity when there was clearly so much to be done. Now, however, Bucky knew the importance of patience — it had been ingrained into his very core, together with various skills and traits he would rather not have.

HYDRA had trained him well.

The presence lurking at the back of his head has settled somewhat, but Bucky was still constantly aware of it — how it quietly bided its time, observing in silence. Most nights he was afraid to fall asleep since he didn't know where he would wake up — or who would be in control.

Tonight was no different, especially considering how close he had been to losing his grip on the reins back in the repair shop.

He sat down on the bed but didn't relax. His training didn't allow him to let his guard down in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by people who might betray him. As tiring as it was to be constantly vigilant, it had saved his life more than once. The only thing he allowed himself was to slip off his goggles and reach up to his right ear, pressing the switch that made his mask fold back into a discreet, black earpiece. Just like with his ship, Bucky had disabled both in and outgoing sound three days ago, cutting as many ties with HYDRA as he possibly could.

He dropped the goggles next to himself on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers accidentally brushed against the injection port at the back of his neck and Bucky quickly pulled his hand away, suppressing a shiver.

Three weeks. Just three more weeks and this would be over. He could finally go home.

Bucky had lost count of how many years he had been gone. Steve probably knew — he might even be able to pinpoint it down to the hour and minute — but Bucky was too afraid to ask. If he knew how long he had been gone, he would have to come to terms with how many years of memories he had suppressed. They were undoubtedly his — shared with that _thing_ lurking at the back of his mind — but he didn't want to acknowledge them. He had done so many horrible things during those years and even if it might make him a coward, he was grateful that he didn't have to face them.

The sound of laughing voices rose from the streets below, drawing Bucky's gaze to the window. Knowhere might not be pretty, but it was undeniably alive. Everything seemed so uncomplicated here, as if only now mattered. That was the kind of simplicity that Bucky longed for, even if he knew that he didn't deserve it — not after everything he had done.

At some point in the future, Bucky might be able to forgive himself, but he wasn't holding his breath. Completing his mission would be a good start, though, considering how many lives depended on it. He might be able to give something back — to _save_ lives for a change.

His fingers strayed to his pocket, just to assure himself that the memory drive was still there.

Bucky had managed to send off a short transmission to Steve, not caring that he'd had to pay a shameless amount of units for the opportunity. It was worth it in his eyes, even if the operator had been far too pleased when Bucky had accepted the price without argument.

Just three more weeks.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his mind to settle. He was still aware of the sounds around him, attention on high alert, but allowed a meditative calm to settle. All he could do now was to wait and, as luck would have it, he was somewhat of an expert at that. Well, the one sharing his body was, and Bucky was no stranger to borrowing the parasite's skills when necessary. This was one few that wouldn't result in murder, so he deemed it safe enough.

He quietly repeated the words he had sent to Steve and, as he sat there on his uncomfortable hotel bed, stranded and all but useless, Bucky prayed that everything would go according to plan.

Just three more weeks.

_Possibly delayed. Three days tops. AAK – B_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone had told me three years ago that the first fanfic I'd write for the Avengers fandom would be a 80 000+ word Bucky/Tony Space AU I would probably have laughed in their faces. But now?
> 
> I REGRET NOTHING.


	3. The Mission

 

* * *

 

Bucky grew restless before even one of the three days had passed.

He had managed a couple of hours of fitful sleep, but, since he spent all of his time in his hotel room, he inevitably started feeling claustrophobic. The cramped little room with its simple furniture and bare walls was far too similar to what had been the Winter Soldier's home the past thirty odd years. At one point, Bucky had woken up and thought he was back in that cold, sterile cell — that regaining control of himself, escaping, and _Steve_ had all been a dream.

No matter how uncomfortable it made Bucky to stay in his room, being out on the streets was somehow worse. All the flashing lights and loud noises made him want to curl up in the nearest corner and _hide_. He missed the solitude of being alone in his ship, hearing only the familiar hum of the engines and not having to worry about ambushes or distrustful gazes.

For once, the presence at the back of his head was in agreement — neither of them liked being this exposed and vulnerable.

In the end, it was pure desperation that brought him back to the filthy repair shop, less than a day after his last visit. He didn't want company — he might actually start swinging if Tony attempted to have a conversation with him — but Bucky needed someplace safe and familiar. The walls of his ship had never made him feel trapped and cornered. He didn't want to disturb Tony while he was working, but if Bucky locked himself into his cabin he shouldn't be in the way.

He needed the security of being inside four familiar walls. He needed to stop glancing over his shoulder, always seeing threats in the corner of his eye. He needed to _breathe_ , if only for a couple of hours, without also fearing that those breaths would be his last.

He needed to feel safe.

Bucky knew he was well on his way toward a breakdown, the tension of the past weeks — hell, the past _years_ — finally catching up with him. Ever since meeting Steve four months ago, Bucky had been teetering on the edge. Regaining control of his body had been a blessing, but also the beginning of his downfall. When Steve had pulled him back from whatever corner of his mind he had hidden in, Bucky had been forced to face the cold, hard truth — for the first time, he saw the monster he had become.

The monster _they_ had turned him into.

Bucky remembered very little from the procedure — being injected with the virus, the indoctrination, the torture — and he didn't know the science behind it, but he knew it was irreversible. There was no cure. Once the HYDRA virus was in your system, you either had to adapt to it or let it kill you.

Bucky's body had adapted, but what came out on the other end wasn't him. The _thing_ sharing his body was stronger than Bucky had ever been — agile, faster, more durable. HYDRA taught them how to fight — to utilize the new power they had been given — even if Bucky wanted none of it. No one cared what he wanted. The parasite had been in control and Bucky could only glimpse what it was doing.

For years Bucky saw flashes of the carnage the other one caused — spreading death and destruction wherever they went — but instead of resisting, he had curled up tighter and let it continue. He had allowed the parasite to have control, too indifferent to care and too afraid to fight. The only thing he really remembered from the assimilation process was the pain whenever he refused to submit — the electric shocks wracking his body, like lightning slithering through his veins.

Fighting hadn't seemed worth it.

Until Steve came. When Bucky had seen Steve's face through eyes he couldn't control, he _had_ to do something. Bucky knew what his body was capable of — what the parasite made them do — and the thought of that happening to Steve had made his blood run cold.

Bucky still wasn't sure how, but Steve had been able to pull him back.

For the first time in years, Bucky was able to feel something besides apathy. Before Steve found them there had only been missions, orders, and obedience. That was what they were trained for.

There was no room for a conscience once HYDRA had taken hold.

Only when Bucky was back in control did his ability to feel guilt return — and it did so without mercy. Bucky nearly broke under the onslaught of horrific memories, even if he only had a fraction of them; every single one would have been enough, all on their own.

He should have fought the virus earlier, tried to stop the other from killing all those people. Even when Bucky was in control the presence was there, lurking at the back of his mind, quietly biding its time. It would _always_ be there. There was no cure for the HYDRA virus and, even if there had been, Bucky was fairly certain that the thing inside of him was its own entity by then. He was just a host for whatever abomination had been created by the virus.

Bucky would never be free of the parasite and he couldn't forgive himself for not having fought it sooner. There was so much guilt and shame and fear.

Steve had tried to help him but there was only so much he could do when the threat was inside Bucky's head, both literally and figuratively. And, to be entirely honest, Bucky hadn't been sure if he _wanted_ help. He _should_ feel remorse for what he had done. But Steve, loyal to a fault and kinder than anyone had any real right to be, didn't see it that way — he said it was the other one, not Bucky, who had killed all those people. Not even when Bucky told him that he'd let the parasite have control did Steve waver.

In Steve's mind, Bucky hadn't done anything wrong and it was obvious that he wanted Bucky to forgive himself. Only Bucky couldn't do that — at least not yet.

His need for redemption had driven him to suggest the near-suicide mission he was now on. Steve had protested when Bucky had proposed that he return to HYDRA as an insider, saying it was too dangerous. He was right, of course, but that hadn't mattered to Bucky. He'd seen a chance to set things right and he intended to take it, no matter if Steve stood by him or not.

They both knew that this was the best shot they'd ever get at infiltrating HYDRA.

Eventually, Steve had relented, grudgingly agreeing to Bucky's plan. There wasn't much else he _could_ do, because leaving Bucky to his fate wasn't an option — not to someone like Steve. They had stuck together through thick and thin, ever since they were children, and they weren't going to stop now.

The memory drive in Bucky's pocket was the reward of his efforts — of three months spent pretending to still be under HYDRA's control, surrounded by people who'd kill him without hesitation, were they to find out he wasn't. But, despite the odds, he had managed to escape. He was on his way back to Steve and with him he carried enough information to help eradicate HYDRA once and for all.

Just three more weeks.

Bucky was wound tight with tension, both from fear of what would happen if Steve didn't get the memory drive and what HYDRA would do to Bucky if they caught up with him. He wasn't safe yet, not by a long shot, and the bustling crowds of Knowhere weren't exactly helping in keeping him calm.

There were shouts and loud laughter coming from the bar next to Tony's repair shop, Bucky trying his best to shut it all out. The parasite lurking at the back of his mind was snarling from discomfort and Bucky was honestly tempted to join in.

He walked quickly down the steps leading to the repair shop, trying desperately to keep his movements at least somewhat controlled — otherwise he might break into a run. The grating sounds and flashing colors were only making things worse, his heart picking up its pace and limbs trembling from his attempts to hold back the panic.

"Good evening, Mr. Bucky," JARVIS greeted as soon as Bucky pushed open the door to the repair shop, perhaps a bit more forcefully than strictly necessary.

Bucky let out a grunt in reply; he wasn't nearly balanced enough to give a more polite response.

"Do you wish to enter the workshop, sir?"

Bucky nodded, hands clenched tightly at his sides; he could almost feel the metal and bones grind. The soft click of the door unlocking calmed him somewhat, if only because he was so much closer to safety.

When Bucky descended the steps to the workshop he could hear music, growing louder the further down he went. JARVIS opened the door at the bottom of the stairs without prompting, which made the sound level spike from a dull thump to an almost deafening roar. Strangely enough, the screaming music was less jarring that the talking voices out on the streets — possibly because it was one noise that drowned out hundreds.

Bucky walked into the workshop as if he owned the place, barely sparing the other occupants a glance. That had more to do with desperation than confidence, to be honest, but Bucky didn't care as long as he reached his destination. He could feel Tony's gaze follow him as he headed for his ship, but if the man tried to talk to him, it was drowned out by the blaring music. One of the robots rolled closer, clearly curious, but Bucky ignored it.

He was fraying around the edges, feeling tense and off kilter. Breathing was getting more and more difficult and Bucky didn't know how to handle the steadily building pressure.

At this rate, he wasn't sure if he would last three more weeks.

Maybe he should have listened to Steve and gotten out when he had the chance. It was just that Bucky _knew_ he could make a difference — for the better — so he had been willing to risk his own safety. This was a small step toward making amends and he was _so close_. Just three more weeks. As soon as Steve got the memory drive, Bucky's mission was finally over.

He so desperately wanted it to be over.

His ship was right where he left her. Bucky scaled the ramp in three long strides and headed for his cabin, pressing the buttons to unlock the door with trembling fingers. He just needed some peace and quiet, that was all.

The door slid open and Bucky was inside the room the next second. His breath hitched while he tried to push back the humiliating rush of relief — he was supposed to be stronger than this. How was Steve supposed to trust him if he ended up breaking down from the smallest of things?

Bucky tore the goggles off, letting them fall to the floor with a soft _thunk_. His fingers scrabbled along the edges of his mask, desperately trying to find some purchase. He couldn't breathe. He needed to get the mask off. His fingers scratched against the smooth, black plates of metal, the panic rising and his lungs burning.

It took him several seconds to remember the button by his right ear.

His hands were shaking so badly he almost couldn't find it. The moment the mask folded back he gulped down a deep breath and tore out the earpiece. He slumped back against the door, cold, hard steel supporting him, and barely even noticed when the earpiece slipped from his limp fingers. It didn't take long before his knees buckled and he sank to the floor.

Pushing back the panic was a losing battle but he managed to stay in control, if only barely. He repeated a desperate mantra inside his head, air rushing in and out his lungs as he started to hyperventilate.

Everything would be fine. Just three more weeks. Everything would be fine.

Bucky closed his eyes and buried his fingers in his hair, keening softly in between gasps — most of them sounding more and more like sobs.

He could do this. Just three more weeks.

Everything would be fine.

_Just three more weeks_.

Bucky wasn't sure how long it took before he was able to pull himself together. He was still sitting on the floor, his back resting against the door and knees pulled up close to his chest. His breathing had slowed and his hands were no longer shaking. The steel of the door was blessedly cold when he leaned his head against it.

After a couple of seconds, he realized that the music had stopped, but if he listened closely he could instead hear Tony talk, supposedly to his robots.

"No, that doesn't go there. Stop that. What are you doing? You— I said _stop that_."

To Bucky's infinite surprise, he felt his lips twitch toward a smile. Tony was clearly annoyed, but there was an underlying current of fondness, suggesting that he'd had this conversation several times before and knew that he would again — and didn't mind it one bit.

"Hold that, dummy. _Dummy_ , I said _hold_ , not push — there's a difference. If you keep pushing it's going to—"

There was a loud clang, followed by a tired, drawn-out sigh.

"You are a disaster. All three of you. I don't even know why I keep trying. I will deport you during the next supply delivery. I really mean it this time."

"With all due respect, Sir," JARVIS cut in, his voice laced with more amusement than Bucky thought possible for an AI, "you would miss them before the first day was over."

"Lies and slander, JARVIS, lies and slander. Also, there should be a rule against you sassing me while I'm working. Is there such a rule? There should be such a rule. Let's make one. Note it down and make it happen, JARVIS."

"Of course, Sir," JARVIS replied dryly, but Bucky had a feeling he wasn't noting down anything.

Bucky closed his eyes, listening as Tony shot off on another tangent, discussing the repairs with JARVIS and using terminology Bucky couldn't quite keep up with. The smooth cadence of his voice was oddly comforting, however, occasionally interspersed with JARVIS's crisp replies. There was something very hypnotic about the way Tony talked, even if Bucky didn't understand everything he was saying.

He ended up sitting there, listening to Tony rant, Bucky's tense shoulders lowering slowly but surely. It was surprisingly easy to let himself relax when he could focus on the sound of Tony's voice.

Bucky didn't even realize he was smiling.

The third time Tony banged something against the ship hard enough to send a shudder through the metal, Bucky decided to get up from the floor.

He hesitated when he picked up the goggles and earpiece. They weren't his — they belonged to the parasite — and held just as many bad memories as his arm did. Bucky wore them only because they would keep people from recognizing him, but couldn't exactly say that he enjoyed it.

He took a deep breath and slipped the earpiece back in, trying not to flinch when he pressed the button and the mask slid into place. Putting on the goggles was much easier.

Even though Bucky knew it would be wiser to stay in his cabin, he soon slipped out the door and headed for the lowered ramp. He couldn't quite explain why he suddenly _wanted_ to leave the safety of his ship, considering that he had been so desperate to reach it not too long ago. It was just that Tony had been cursing on and off during the past fifteen minutes, his voice growing increasingly frustrated in time with his slipping patience.

Bucky wasn't sure how he planned to help with that, but he'd rather seem like an idiot for offering than sit idle for two more days. He would go insane.

The workshop was still bathed in light despite the late hour; it had to be in the middle of the night by then. There was no music, which only made Tony's low mutters echo all the louder in the big, open space of the hangar, accompanied by the occasional whirr from whatever tool he was using.

Bucky found Tony in the middle of removing one of the damaged plates of the hull. He had worked through more than half of the bolts but the way he was frowning, his lips pressed into a thin line, said that something wasn't right. He was holding an impact wrench, just about to get started on another bolt.

The robots were the first to notice Bucky, letting out cheerful chirps that he assumed were some kind of greeting. Tony glanced to the side at the sound, flinching back when he saw Bucky standing a couple of feet away.

"Holy—" Tony swallowed whatever exclamation he had been about to make, one of his hands shooting up to cover the centre of his chest. Bucky wasn't sure of the significance of that gesture, but it looked like some kind of nervous tick. A tense second followed before Tony let out a laugh, even if it was a little too sharp. "Just a pro tip, buddy — don't sneak up on people holding power tools. Someone might get seriously hurt."

Tony's hand shook, ever so slightly, when he lowered it from his chest, his other gripping the impact wrench tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white. Bucky felt a stab of guilt — he hadn't meant to scare Tony.

Hours must have passed since Bucky came storming into the workshop, so perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him if Tony had forgotten that he was there in the first place — or at least not expected him to show up out of nowhere.

Tony turned back to the bolt he was working on before Bucky had time to apologize.

"Did you want anything?" Tony asked it casually enough, but there was a trace of tightness in his voice that made Bucky feel even worse.

Bucky swallowed and subtly put a little more distance between them, just in case that would make things better.  
  
"Can I help?" The words sounded even more stupid when Bucky said them out loud. The offer earned him a surprised look, but he had no intention of taking it back. This was his ship and he had been rude enough to barge in unannounced — the least he could do was to help with the repairs.

Tony's eyes looked impossibly big when he was surprised and Bucky couldn't help noticing that his eyelashes were particularly distracting.

"If you can tell me what kind of bolts these are, I would be grateful," Tony replied eventually. "They're not the standard issue, or even the most common non-standard issue, so my tools aren't compatible. I'm guessing they've been added during a repair."

Bucky took a step closer, careful to move slowly enough that Tony saw him coming. There was no negative reaction from Tony, however, so maybe it was being startled that had frightened him earlier, rather than Bucky in general. Tony smoothly stepped to the side, giving Bucky enough room to reach out and let the fingers of his metal hand touch the nearest bolt.

They stood so close that Bucky could catch a whiff of Tony's scent — oil, metal, and a curious tinge of coconut. Bucky felt a flutter in his stomach that he studiously ignored.

Tony pursed his lips. "I guess I could just _make_ a new set of tools or—"

Bucky found a grip around the bolt, braced his other hand against the smooth metal hull, and twisted. It took some effort, but the bolt loosened soon enough.

"Or we do it like that. Wow. Really? Did you just unscrew that _by hand_? I mean, I know you did — I saw you do it — but I'm having a hard time believing it. Just how strong _are_ you? Is it just the metal arm or both?" Tony was staring at him with bright, wide eyes, his grin positively radiant — as if Bucky had just performed some kind of miracle. Then again, most people weren't enhanced like Bucky and his metal arm was even stronger than his flesh one.

Bucky didn't know how to explain that without also revealing things he really couldn't talk about, though, so eventually he settled for a simple shrug. Tony seemed to be fighting an urge to reach out and grab Bucky's left hand, as if he was desperate to examine it closer.

Bucky wasn't sure if anyone had ever looked at him with such innocent, giddy excitement before. Sure, Tony's interest was probably founded in greed to some extent — be it thirst for knowledge — but it was still flattering. And mildly terrifying.

Tony's reaction also said a whole lot about him as a person. Most people would be frightened when they realized they were standing next to someone who could crush them without much effort — Tony just got excited about the technology behind it.

With a couple of final twists, Bucky pulled the bolt free. He held it out to Tony, who in turn gestured toward a metal bucket at their feet. Bucky dropped the bolt in with the ones Tony had removed before looking back at the hull.

"All of them?" he asked, acutely aware of Tony's stare but refusing to acknowledge it.

"Well, sure," Tony replied, almost a little too quickly, gesturing toward the rest of the bolts. He dropped the impact wrench onto the closest table. "Knock yourself out."

Bucky nodded once in confirmation before getting to work. The task of unscrewing bolts might be repetitive and frankly quite boring, but that was exactly what he needed; he got to focus on something productive that didn't include violence. The fact that Tony kept staring — keenly tracing each movement Bucky's metal hand made — well, that made him a bit uneasy, but he managed. Mainly because Tony seemed unreasonably happy about the opportunity, each whirr and subtle click of the gears just making him look more fascinated.

By the time Bucky was unscrewing the last bolt, Tony was so far off in thought that it took him several seconds to snap back to attention.

"Oh! Right. Be careful with the last one," Tony warned. "The plate is heavy enough to crush you if it falls loose and—" Tony sucked in a sharp breath, "—you can just lift it down. Of course you can. That's _beautiful_."

Bucky couldn't tell if Tony was being sarcastic or not.

"Where?" Bucky asked while carefully resting the edge of the metal plate against the tip of his boot, readjusting his grip.

"Over there is fine." Tony waved distractedly toward an open space on the floor, his eyes a little wide. "So it's not just the metal arm — you really are that strong."

Tony clearly didn't expect him to answer so Bucky turned to unload the hull plating instead.

"Can I keep you?" Tony blurted out.

Bucky nearly stumbled. He froze for a second, throwing an incredulous glance over his shoulder — not that Tony could see that, what with Bucky's mask.

"I mean, if I had you," Tony continued, "I wouldn't need tools _or_ helper bots. You'd save me hours of work. Not to mention that I could rant in front of someone with an actual pulse for once — no offense there, JARVIS."

"None taken, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"So, if you're ever looking for employment, let me know — I'd hire you in a heartbeat. I'll even compensate you if I happen to blow you up, I promise." While Tony's words were more than a little disturbing, his smile was wide and so genuine that Bucky found it difficult to breathe.

How long had it been since someone smiled at him like that? Not even Steve had managed, their conversations having been tinged with sadness, worry, and the years they had lost.

Bucky pushed the thought aside and placed the metal plate where Tony had indicated. While Bucky might have wanted to find a suitable comeback to respond with, his throat was too tight for him to speak. Tony didn't seem to find his silence strange, however, which was a small blessing.

"Hey, you," Tony said. Bucky looked up on pure reflex, only to find Tony shaking his head. "No, not you — I meant you." Tony rolled his eyes when Bucky stared at him, honestly more confused the longer Tony kept talking. "Not you as in Bucky, but you as in _the robot_. It's his name. Just a capitalized U, okay?"

Tony pointed at one of the one-armed bots, which gave a soft whirr and rolled closer. "This is U, that's Butterfingers, and that dunce trying yet again to climb onto your ship is DUM-E — get down from there, boy." Tony enunciated the letters of DUM-E's name very clearly and suddenly it made a lot more sense why Tony kept repeating the word 'dummy' so many times.

"So," Tony carried on, picking up the bucket of bolts while DUM-E rolled back down from the ramp, "U is going to carry the bucket while Bucky unscrews the rest of the plates. In the meantime, I'll be taking measurements to make the new plates. Well, JARVIS will take the measurements while I supervise, but close enough."

"Indeed, Sir," JARVIS replied, sounding perfectly polite, but even Bucky heard the underlying sarcasm in his words. He hadn't known AI's could _do_ sarcasm.

"What did we say about the sass, JARVIS?" Tony admonished, but he didn't sound very angry. "No sassing me while I'm working. Which doesn't leave you with a whole lot of time during which you're allowed sass me, granted, but I'm pretty sure that's a good thing." Tony hooked the bucket onto U's arm before turning to Bucky. "Is the division of labor acceptable?"

The fact that Tony wasn't kicking Bucky out made him feel so embarrassingly grateful that he would have agreed to pretty much anything. Being given something to do was even better, especially considering how much faith Tony was willing to grant him, despite them being virtual strangers. Not many people would want someone like Bucky around while they were working, but Tony didn't even seem to hesitate.

Bucky knew that his nod couldn't possibly convey the amount of gratitude he felt, but it would have to do.

When he moved to step past Tony and start working on the next plate, Tony held out a hand. He seemed to know better than to touch Bucky this time.

"Hey." Tony's tone was surprisingly soft, a contrast to the serious look on his face. "Can you at least lose the goggles? I know why you wear that getup — you clearly don't want me or JARVIS to figure out who you are, and I can respect that — but he won't be able to get a retinal scan from this distance. It would be nice to be able to look you in the eye while I'm talking to you."

Bucky couldn't help stiffening. The parasite at the back of his head clearly didn't like Tony's request. Still, Bucky could understand why Tony asked and agree that it probably wouldn't be all that dangerous as long as he stayed inside the workshop. He forced himself to uncoil, pushing back both his own hesitation and the parasite's suspicious growl — Bucky had a habit of ignoring its opinions anyway.

Unfastening and slipping off the goggles was easy — meeting Tony's gaze for the first time was not. Hiding behind his goggles had made Bucky feel safer because they had functioned as a barrier that kept Tony from getting too close.

Bucky had no idea why he was suddenly willing to surrender that.

The moment their gazes locked and held, Bucky found himself holding his breath. The weight of Tony's stare was ten times worse when he knew that Bucky was looking back. It wasn't invasive or demanding — just incredibly intense.

Bucky tried not to give in to the urge to swallow, feeling unreasonably nervous.

Tony only smiled, though, his shoulders lowering. Bucky hadn't even noticed that they were tense to begin with; Tony moved with such fluency that it was difficult to tell until he had already relaxed, apparently.

"Hi there." Tony's words were just a soft exhalation, spoken with a surprising amount of gentleness. Bucky's heart squeezed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

The question was probably rhetorical, but Bucky shook his head all the same. He couldn't bring himself to look away from Tony. He really had the most amazing eyes — bright, intelligent, and so incredibly alive. Bucky wouldn't mind staring into them for however long he was allowed.

That thought was what eventually made him avert his gaze, because that was a very dangerous road to travel down. Not only was Tony a complete stranger, but Bucky was a danger to everyone around him — because of who were hunting him and what was nestled away inside his head. Bucky could barely even remember the last time he felt so much as a flicker of attraction toward anyone, but now was definitely not the time.

Tony, as always, picked up the conversation with admirable ease, despite whatever had passed between them mere seconds ago.

"Just four more plates to go, Buckling. Keep up the good work and I might be able to finish her early." Tony patted Bucky's upper arm when he walked past toward the removed hull plating, his grin carefree, as usual. The look in his eyes was just a fraction too warm and fond for a supposed stranger, however.

Bucky had no idea what to do with that and eventually ended up ignoring it altogether. He didn't acknowledge the horrendous nickname Tony had tossed out, either, but he couldn't deny that he felt a pleased flutter in his chest, just for having been given one. He had so few things that were his own that even a silly nickname felt significant. Or maybe it was because _Tony_ was the one who said it.

Bucky quickly shut down that train of thought and focused on unscrewing bolts instead — that was much, much safer.

It was surprisingly soothing to work alongside Tony and his small army of robots. First of all, Bucky knew that none of the bots would try to harm him — that clearly wasn't a part of their programming — second, Tony kept up a string of worthless chatter that let Bucky know where he was at all times. Tony spoke more to JARVIS and the bots than to Bucky, but just knowing that he was there was more of a relief than Bucky thought it would be.

The fact that Tony acted as if Bucky had always been there was confusing, but made Bucky feel welcome in a way he hadn't thought possible. He still wasn't sure if he belonged, but he felt himself relax perhaps for the first time since he said goodbye to Steve three months ago.

Bucky worked in silence, unscrewing bolts and removing panels with smooth efficiency. Every time he went to lay down another plate where Tony and JARVIS were taking measurements, Tony would look up and give him a smile.

More than once, Bucky found himself almost smiling back.

Tony just looked so happy, sauntering back and forth — still barefoot, to Bucky's dismay — talking to JARVIS while his fingers flew over the holographic screens JARVIS had conjured. Tony moved his hands with such grace and fluency that the interface might as well have been a part of him. Every sweep and brush of his fingertips seemed instinctive, seamless, and absolutely beautiful to watch.

Bucky tried to tell himself that he wasn't sneaking glances, but he wasn't fooling anyone — least of all the parasite at the back of his mind. Most of the time, the other remained more or less passive, watching rather than reacting or interfering. They had no way of communicating except when Bucky was able to sense the occasional spike of emotion, and even then it was usually simple things like anger or distrust. This was the first time he felt what could only be described as amusement — at his expense.

Bucky resolutely refused to react to the taunting and focused back on his work.

So what if he thought Tony was pleasing to the eye? Bucky would be gone in less than two days and there was no harm in looking. He didn't trust Tony further than he could throw him — which, then again, was quite far when he accounted for his enhanced strength — and he couldn't allow himself to get distracted from his mission. Priorities, for star's sake.

Somehow, it got more and more difficult to remember that when Tony kept drawing Bucky's attention, one way or another.

First, it was to ask him what kind of music he would like to listen to. Bucky had to search his memory before he could name any of the artists he had been fond of before the war and HYDRA got their hands on him, only to have Tony snort at him and accuse him of having outdated taste in music. Those particular ones were obviously older than Tony was, which didn't really make Bucky feel better.

The fact that Tony asked JARVIS to make a playlist with Bucky's preferences and put it on the loudspeakers, well, that made something warm and complicated burst to life in Bucky's chest, however.

Two hours after that Tony had to help Bucky locate a ladder when the last hull plate turned out to be positioned too high up for Bucky to reach. This mostly involved Tony pointing to which piles of rubble Bucky should dig through, but the knowledge of Tony being _right there_ — just a couple of steps away — made Bucky feel strangely nervous and self-conscious. Not in a bad way, surprisingly enough, but it was undeniably distracting.

_Tony_ was distracting.

The entire time Bucky worked on the last hull plating, Tony was within his field of vision, having hopped up onto one of the nearby tables. The holographic screens could obviously be projected anywhere in the workshop so Tony kept working, talking to JARVIS even if he kept throwing glances in Bucky's direction.

It took Bucky over ten minutes to realize that Tony was keeping an eye on him, probably worried that he would fall off the ladder. Bucky knew he wouldn't and even if he did, he'd heal in a matter of hours — he'd dropped from greater heights without as much as a twisted ankle.

The concern was quite flattering, though.

Bucky should probably have thought of that before he jumped down from the ladder once the final hull plating had come off. He just figured that jumping was easier than climbing while carrying a huge piece of metal. That little stunt might have given Tony a slight heart attack, however, and sent DUM-E speeding for the fire extinguisher, for some reason. The look Tony gave Bucky said that he was very unhappy with Bucky's quick thinking, but had to focus on prying the fire extinguisher from DUM-E rather than voice his complaints.

With the final plate removed Tony went back to taking measurements, while Bucky hovered a little uncertainly, not sure what to do next. Eventually, Tony looked up — he was awfully fond of meeting Bucky's gaze now that he could — and blinked.

"Oh. Yes." Tony straightened. "Perhaps you want to sleep? It's— JARVIS, what time is it?"

"Four in the morning, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"Four in the morning," Tony repeated. "It'll take a while before the new plates are ready, so you might as well get a couple of hours of shuteye."

Bucky hesitated. He wasn't tired, first of all — one of the benefits of the HYDRA virus was the he needed very little rest — and second, he didn't like the implication that Tony would keep working.

"What about you?" he asked.

Tony frowned. "What about me?"

"Are _you_ going to sleep?" Bucky really shouldn't care. He didn't know Tony and he had no say in how he lived his life.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Okay. A, that's none of your business. B, you're the one who wants this done as quickly as possible. And C, well, I can't think of one right now, but I'm pretty sure the first two are more than enough."

Bucky wasn't sure what to reply to that. He swallowed, slowly clenching his right hand. He was in a hurry, sure, but, from what he could tell, Tony had been working nonstop for hours — that didn't seem healthy.

"Sir, it has now been thirty-nine hours since you last slept," JARVIS cut in.

"Really? Time flies, doesn't it?" Tony replied loftily, but Bucky heard the sharpness underneath — Tony didn't like to be criticized for his sleeping habits, apparently.

Thirty-nine hours was far too long to go without rest. Bucky knew it wasn't his place to point that out, but he couldn't bring himself to move, either. He just looked at Tony, who stared back, his expression defiant and lips pressed into a thin line. Neither of them spoke.

Then, after another couple of tense seconds, Tony let out a defeated sigh.

"Can a pair of eyes get any more judging?" he groaned. "Fine. Let's make a deal — we both go to bed. That way we can get an early start tomorrow. You happy?"

Bucky nodded, despite the scathing tone to Tony's words. He couldn't help wondering when Tony last ate — he certainly hadn't done so during the hours Bucky had been working alongside him — but knew better than to push his luck.

"JARVIS, you run the numbers, work on that second algorithm, and start the production of the hull plated as soon as all the data has been gathered," Tony said, while making a sweeping gesture with his hand that shut down the glowing screens scattered around the workshop.

"Yes, Sir."

Tony ushered the bots into their charging stations — which Bucky assumed was the equivalent of them going to bed — before he turned to Bucky, hesitating.

"You don't mind if I lock the place down, do you? JARVIS can let you out if you have somewhere to be, but I prefer to keep security tight whenever I'm not actually in the workshop."

Tony obviously assumed that Bucky intended to sleep on his ship. Well, he wasn't _wrong_ — Bucky would much rather do that than return to his sterile hotel room — but he was surprised by the trust Tony was showing him. Leaving him alone in the workshop was no small thing.

Then again, JARVIS would probably sound the alarm if Bucky did something to Tony's equipment or tried to steal from him.

"It's fine," Bucky replied. More than fine, actually, since a couple of extra locks might actually help him sleep. The added security of JARVIS's ever-watchful eyes was mildly unsettling — Bucky didn't like the thought of being observed — but mostly a comfort. Computers were reliable when it came to detecting incoming threats.

The corner of Tony's mouth lifted into something that could almost be called a smile.

"You need anything, just ask JARVIS." Tony started backing away, toward the door leading up to the reception area. Bucky realized that he had no idea where Tony was going to sleep, but it would be invasive to ask. Perhaps there was some kind of apartment on top of the reception.

"Sleep tight," Tony threw out, and waited just long enough to see Bucky's responding nod before he turned away.

Bucky chose not to watch him leave and instead went to climb into his ship. He couldn't quite bring himself to do so, however, stopping just in front of the ramp. The sound of the door opening, then closing again a couple of seconds later, echoed in the wide, hollow hangar. There was a dull click when the door locked, then a much deeper clang when the bigger hangar door was secured as well.

If Bucky listened closely, he could hear Tony's footsteps as he climbed the staircase — they sounded heavy and tired. Bucky felt a twinge of worry, frowning softly. Before he had time to think better of it, he looked up at the ceiling, even if he knew that wasn't where JARVIS resided.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr. Bucky?" came the reply, perfectly polite and accommodating, as always.

It took Bucky a couple of seconds to pinpoint why he had spoken up in the first place.

"There's no one else here, is there?"

"No, sir, yours is the only heat signature I can detect within the workshop," JARVIS answered.

Bucky shook his head. "No, I meant here, with Tony. No friends or colleagues or... lovers?"

There was a brief pause and Bucky wondered if he had overstepped his bounds.

"No," JARVIS eventually replied, "there is no one else currently living or working in this building, except for yourself and Sir."

"Tony is very lonely, isn't he?" The words just slipped out, even if Bucky knew it was none of his business — and definitely not something he could do anything about.

There was another pause and Bucky belatedly realized that JARVIS might not be able to measure things such as loneliness.

But JARVIS still replied, his voice softer than before. "I would say so, yes."

Bucky wasn't sure how he knew, but there was something with the way Tony talked and acted that just made him seem so isolated — as if he was keeping himself at arm's length from everyone else. He had welcomed Bucky into the workshop with surprising ease, yes, but Bucky didn't know anything more about him than he had the first time he met him.

Well, besides that Tony liked music and was a lot more generous and caring than first impressions suggested.

Tony didn't seem sad, per se, but definitely lonely — perhaps even a little lost.

Not that it mattered — there was nothing Bucky could do about that. He was set to leave as soon as his ship was ready and it wasn't his responsibility to help Tony. Bucky told himself it wasn't.

He took a deep breath before looking up at the ceiling again.

"And JARVIS?" he said, smiling faintly behind his mask.

"Yes?"

"Just Bucky is fine. Mr. Bucky sounds weird."

"As you wish, sir." JARVIS sounded almost fond, if that was even possible. "Good night, Bucky."

"Good night, JARVIS." Bucky nodded before walking up the ramp, disappearing into the safety of his ship.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're having fun with the story so far, my lovelies — there's a lot more to come!
> 
> Also, I might be enjoying writing Tony just a _little_ too much. Just a little.


	4. The Mechanic

 

* * *

 

Bucky was able to sleep for five whole hours and could only remember two nightmares, neither of them bad enough to wake him. It had been weeks since he had managed to sleep that much without startling awake at some point.

When the parasite had been in control sleep had never been a problem — they rested when it was convenient and were never disturbed by gruesome memories. It was Bucky who couldn't handle the guilt, and was left tossing and turning most nights.

The HYDRA virus was probably the only reason he hadn't collapsed from exhaustion.

Judging by the noises outside Bucky's ship, Tony was already back in the workshop. Bucky tried to push down the flare of concern. He was pretty sure that Tony was a mere human, and whatever amount of sleep he'd managed to get was clearly too little.

But again — that was none of Bucky's business.

He ate of the provisions he had on his ship, making sure to increase the portion to compensate for the one he'd missed last night. Like with sleep, the HYDRA virus made sure that he could go without food for several days if necessary, but if he wanted to remain in peak condition it was better if he ate regularly — and in large quantities.

When it came to getting dressed, Bucky hesitated. He had no plans to leave the workshop that day, which meant that he didn't need half of his gear. Pants, boots, and a simple long-sleeved sweater would do — no need for the armored jacket and the several weapon holsters. He would still be carrying some of his knives, but those could be hidden elsewhere.

He picked up the earpiece from where it lay next to the goggles on his bedside table, but couldn't bring himself to put it in. He knew he should — he wasn't sure if he could trust Tony — but it would be nice to be without the mask for once. On the other hand, _not_ wearing it was a huge risk and Bucky couldn't take chances, not considering what was at stake.

He still didn't put the earpiece in. He didn't want to.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the black, innocuous piece of technology resting in his palm. Would it really be so bad to leave it behind? Bucky would have to learn to do so sooner or later, so why not start now?

The parasite was oddly quiet.

After a deep breath Bucky placed the earpiece back onto the bedside table, his heart racing. Being able to make his own decisions after over thirty years of only following orders was a breathtaking feeling. Terrifying, too, since a part of him automatically braced for the pain that always came after failing to meet expectations — be it on a mission or during training. But there were no officers or handlers to dole out punishment now; Bucky was out of their reach.

He turned and left his cabin before he had time to change his mind, leaving both the mask and goggles behind. Bucky had no idea how Tony would react, and he found that he was both nervous and a little eager to find out. Tony's opinion shouldn't matter, but somehow it did.

Bucky recognized his playlist as he made his way down the ramp, the volume low enough that the song playing was nothing more than a comforting background noise. The bots were apparently still asleep, but Tony was perched on one of the tables, flicking through something on one of his floating screens. He seemed relaxed and utterly at home in his ratty workpants and black tank top, one leg tucked under himself and the other bare foot swinging back and forth. Bucky knew Tony couldn't be more than halfway through thirty — not if he was younger than the music Bucky used to listen to — and in that moment he looked so painfully innocent.

A surge of protectiveness rose inside of Bucky, even if it wasn't his place or responsibility. But knowing that even JARVIS thought Tony was lonely, well, that brought out all kinds of instincts. Usually, those had been reserved for Steve, but he didn't need the attention anymore — Tony kind of did. The man obviously didn't know how to take care of himself.

Tony looked up as soon as Bucky came within view. There was a smile on his lips, but his expression slid over to surprise when his gaze landed on Bucky's face.

He clearly hadn't expected Bucky to show up without his mask.

Bucky felt quite flattered when Tony had to take a second to catch up. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then must have thought better of it and shut it again with a clack. Tony was staring, apparently too busy cataloguing Bucky's features to do much else — until he caught himself, that was, and hastily turned his gaze away. He looked almost _shy_ , which was possibly Bucky's new favorite thing.

Tony cleared his throat and managed to pull up another smile just as Bucky came to a stop a couple of feet away.

"Hi there. You don't happen to have seen my newest helper, have you? I seem to have misplaced him." Tony waved the screen away, his smile turning into a teasing grin. "He's about your height, but looks significantly more like a serial killer with a fetish for bondage gear. No? Doesn't ring a bell? Well, in his absence, how about you give it a try? You look like a strong, dependable guy — I could use someone with your talents."

Bucky wasn't sure how he was expected to react, and found himself having to fight down a smile. He didn't miss the flirtatious undercurrent, but knew it was safest not to respond. That was incredibly difficult, though, with Tony smiling at him like that. Bucky remembered a time when he could have delivered innuendos just as smoothly as Tony, with a charming smirk to help it along. That time was behind him, however, and Bucky couldn't quite find the words anymore — or the confidence.

Tony slid down from the table. "You up for it? Good! You're hired. I like your arm, by the way."

"How do you know it's an arm?" The words slipped out before Bucky had time to stop them. They didn't fit the playful atmosphere, seen clearly on how Tony paused, tilting his head to the side. Bucky forced himself to go on. "It could just be my hand."

He'd had the arm covered at all times, even when in the reception area upstairs, so Tony couldn't possibly know. Only he obviously did, and Bucky wasn't sure how.

Tony waited a couple of seconds before he shrugged. "Your gait. You compensate admirably, but your left side is a lot heavier than your right." Tony gave him a pointed look. "Now, if it was just a hand, that wouldn't be the case, would it? You'd have to have at least a forearm to gain that kind of weight, but I'm guessing it goes all the way up to your shoulder, right?"

Bucky nodded, his throat dry — Tony was far too observant. Not that Tony gained much from knowing about Bucky's arm, but he couldn't help wondering what else Tony knew. In the right hands, information was extremely dangerous, and Tony seemed like the kind of person who knew what to do with the data he collected.

Before Bucky could get too uncomfortable, Tony changed the subject.

"So, you ready to get back to work, my faithful little helper?"

"Not if that's what you're gonna call me," Bucky shot back, not even sure where that had come from. That was the kind of thing he would have said before HYDRA, but for the past thirty years he'd been expected to follow orders, not deliver witty comebacks. It felt strange to suddenly be doing it again — not unwelcome, but strange.

Unsurprisingly, Tony looked delighted. "Ooh, sass. I like it."

"You have a problem," Bucky informed him, feeling a pleased flutter in his chest when Tony's eyes sparkled from amusement.

Bucky did that.

"Correction, I have _several_ problems — even my problems have problems. And you are far from the first person to have made this keen observation, Buckling my dear." Tony gestured haphazardly. "If I had a unit for every time someone told me I have problems, I would be a billionaire. And able to afford a much better therapist."

"You have a therapist?" Bucky couldn't help asking.

"Of course not." Tony waved his hand. "I have _JARVIS_ — he loves to remind me of my bad life decisions."

"It is a pleasure to be of service, Sir, as always," JARVIS replied dryly.

"See." Tony pointed towards the ceiling. "He keeps me grounded."

Bucky wasn't sure what to call the emotion growing in his chest, but he was pretty sure it was fondness. That was a bad, bad idea, but he couldn't help it. Tony's smile was infectious and Bucky knew he was smiling back, even if he could barely remember how. Smiling felt good, though, especially when Tony didn't seem to want to look away — as if Bucky was worth being the center of his attention.

Tony's eyes were warm and kind when he gestured towards the ship. "Better not keep her waiting. You ready to get started?"

With some effort, Bucky was able to nod. His chest felt tighter than usual and he had a hard time cataloguing all the impressions and emotions fighting for dominance inside of him. All he knew for sure was that he was in way over his head.

When Tony walked past him and offered a soft, lingering touch against Bucky's arm, his heart skipped a beat.

Yeah, definitely in way over his head.

Bucky learned several things about Tony during the day that followed.

One, it was almost impossible to keep up with Tony's intuitive leaps — or the ones in his choice of subject. Bucky noticed that as long as he nodded every now and then and allowed Tony brief moments of eye contact he didn't actually have to reply or offer input, however. More than anything, Tony just seemed to want someone to talk to, which was pretty tragic. But Bucky could be that person, at least during the time he was going to be around.

Two, Tony was as bad at eating as he was sleeping. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to eat, but unless a meal was placed within his physical reach, odds were he'd forget about it entirely. Bucky would never admit it out loud, but it was comforting to be able to take care of someone again — it made him think of Steve and their childhood. So he didn't mind being the one to fetch food from the compact kitchenette that was nestled into one of the corners of the workshop. Bucky wasn't sure who actually _put_ the food there, but he figured it was Tony's and therefore safe to feed said man with.

Three, Tony was infuriating, but also disarmingly charming. He teased and flirted, insulted and soothed, flipping back and forth between the two extremities so quickly that Bucky didn't have time to reply to one before the subject had already changed. During one of his less forgiving moments, Bucky found himself wondering if Tony was lonely because everyone around him had left him for being so insufferable. A second later, Tony gave him one of those enthusiastic, brilliant smiles of his and Bucky felt like a proper asshole. Tony was difficult, yes, and intense, but he wasn't a bad person from what Bucky could see. Fact was, Tony went out of his way to accommodate a complete stranger, and outside of using Bucky as an assistant never asked him for anything in return — not even his full name.

Four, Tony didn't like being handed things. Even when he asked Bucky to fetch him this or that tool, he never accepted them when Bucky handed them over. Only when Bucky placed them on the table or floor next to Tony did he pick them up. Bucky had no idea what that was about but adapted accordingly — it was a small thing to get stuck on.

Five, Tony apparently decided it was his life's mission to make Bucky smile. Maybe it was because he could now see Bucky's face — when it wasn't obscured by his long hair — or maybe he just liked the challenge. Bucky didn't smile much, but he could admit that Tony made it happen more often than he thought possible. And every single time he managed, Tony would look so proud of himself, as if he had just made the world a better place. Truth was, he did — at least Bucky's world, even if it was only for a short period of time.

Six, Tony was a very private person. Bucky didn't know anything about him besides his first name, the name of his bots and AI, and the fact that he owned the building the workshop was in. He had no idea where Tony came from, where he had learned to build the amazing things he could build, and why he decided to live in Knowhere when he was clearly rich enough to go someplace else. Bucky wasn't an idiot — Tony's equipment was top of the line, his AI more complex than any other Bucky had run into, and he seemed to have an almost endless supply of materials. Tony had _a lot_ of money, but it wasn't from the illegal kind of business that usually took place in Knowhere. Bucky knew the type and Tony wasn't it. Eventually, Bucky had to settle for 'complicated,' since he wasn't sure how else to define Tony.

Seven, it was impossible not to like him. While he was trying at times, Tony treated Bucky better than anyone had these past thirty years, save for Steve. Granted, Tony didn't know of Bucky's history and therefore had no idea how dangerous he was, but it was such a relief to be seen as relatively normal that Bucky didn't have the heart to tell him. Not to mention that he couldn't — revealing that sort of thing would be too risky. So Bucky decided to soak up the effortless care Tony sent his way, even if it came in slightly unconventional shapes at times. Bucky knew he was being selfish _and_ that he was putting Tony in danger, but his ship needed the repairs, so what else could he do?

Bucky knew that the longer he stayed, the more he would learn about Tony, and he quickly shoved down his growing disappointment when he realized that he had far less time than he would have liked. When they said goodnight on the second day — slightly earlier than the one previous — Bucky tried to deny the tightness in his chest.

Just one more day.

They had made good progress. Tony, with Bucky's help, had fixed the minor damage areas on the hull during the first half of the day, and when the new plates were finished they had installed four out of five. Bucky had done most of the work, Tony showing him how to use the impact wrench before giving him a batch of standard issue bolts to attach the plates with. Tony had disappeared into Bucky's ship, supposedly to fix the wiring and do those system checks he had mentioned. They hadn't been able to talk much during the latter half of the day, but Bucky had heard Tony speak with JARVIS through a small earpiece — and the occasional hum of whatever tune was stuck in Tony's head at the time.

Thanks to Bucky's help, the ship was more or less finished, save for the last hull plating. Bucky might have been a little too eager to leave it for the next day, even if he knew that wouldn't make much of a difference. He would have to leave eventually. If he wasn't mistaken, the lingering look Tony gave him before exiting the workshop meant that he wasn't looking forward to it either.

They still had one more day, though. It seemed far too little, but given the circumstances it would have to be enough.

Like the previous morning, Tony was back in the workshop by the time Bucky walked out of his ship. Tony was working on some other project that wasn't related to Bucky's ship, but put it aside the moment he saw Bucky emerge.

"Morning, Buckling." Tony wiped his hands on the dark t-shirt he was wearing, smiling widely. "How about we get that last plate out of the way, then spend the rest of the day fixing up all the smaller bumps and bugs?"

Bucky didn't point out that there wasn't a whole lot of work left to be done, and simply nodded in agreement. Fixing things that weren't broken was usually a bad idea, but Bucky couldn't help wanting to prolong his stay, if only for a couple of hours.

The last plate was thankfully on a relatively comfortable height, so it was easy for Bucky to pick it up and put it into place, holding it firm with both hands. Tony came over with the impact wrench, screwing in the first bolt not far from Bucky's right hand. Bucky knew from experience that it was better to get one or two bolts in on each side to hold the plate in place, then work methodically along the edges, but he still wasn't quite prepared to have Tony duck in under his arm. When Tony stood next to him — so close that Bucky could smell him and feel the warmth of his skin — was bad enough, but to suddenly have him inside the bracket of Bucky's arms, well, that was pure torture.

Bucky had to fight an urge to bury his nose in Tony's hair, which was, as always, adorably tousled.

Tony reached up to screw in one of the higher bolts, but the angle wasn't agreeing with him.

"You want a boost?" Bucky hadn't planned to ask, and certainly not to make it sound so teasing.

"Is that a crack about my height?" Tony asked, looking over his shoulder, which put his face dangerously close to Bucky's. Tony didn't seem to think that was a bad thing, however, judging by the smile twitching on his lips. He was clearly trying to appear insulted, but as always when Bucky smiled or said something witty, Tony couldn't help looking pleased.

"Well," Bucky drawled, just to see Tony's eyes sparkle from delight, "you seem to be an inch or two short."

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly sized, Mr. Bucky," Tony replied.

"Yeah, travel sized," Bucky shot back, at which Tony burst out laughing.

Bucky felt something warm and wonderful burst to life in his chest when he watched Tony laugh. Sure, Tony had smiled and laughed more than once during the past two days, but never like this. Tony's entire face lit up, his nose wrinkling adorably — he was practically _radiating_ happiness.

Bucky wasn't sure if he had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

Tony's laugh eased into a soft chuckle. "You know what? I'll just take that as a compliment."

His throat was dry but Bucky managed to nod, trying desperately not to think about how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss Tony. He was _right there_ , still smiling, eyes bright and inviting. It took everything Bucky had not to kiss him, and he almost sighed from relief when Tony eventually turned back to attach the bolt.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek when he saw that Tony had to stand on tiptoes to reach.

He was so, so in over his head it wasn't even funny anymore.

They kept working and Tony kept standing closer than strictly necessary. Bucky was glad for his self-control when it came to not reacting to their close proximity, even if the presence at the back of his head seemed to think he was failing spectacularly. The amusement was back, but for some reason it felt less sinister than usual. Bucky couldn't say why, or what had brought about the change.

Like expected, Tony seemed to be stalling instead of doing actual work. Or rather, he was doing work Bucky wasn't sure was actually necessary. No matter how much Tony insisted, Bucky doubted that spending two hours upgrading the systems and recoding so-called 'bugs' was a priority. To be honest, Bucky was afraid that Tony might make it worse. He knew that Tony was good at what he did, but his attention was divided between Bucky and whatever he was doing on the ship's computer; anyone could make mistakes when they weren't focusing on the task before them.

Tony was seated in the left pilot chair and Bucky to the right, although he wasn't contributing anything except moral support — and someone for Tony to rant at. Bucky still found it soothing, relaxing back in his seat while listening to Tony's running commentary on all the ways his ship was sorely outdated. After a while they got so perfectionistic that Bucky didn't even feel offended — Tony's standards were ridiculously high.

Bucky was jolted into high alert when Tony let out a yelp of pain.

"Ow! What the—" Tony ducked, trying to look under the main console. "I think I cut myself on something."

Without even knowing it, Bucky had reached for one of his knives. It was his kneejerk reaction in the events of a threat, and the sound of Tony in distress was obviously enough to warrant it. Bucky was trying to calm his racing heartbeat, knowing full well that there was no danger. He slipped the knife away and pushed the parasite back down, ignoring its angry snarl.

"There's a screw sticking out somewhere," Tony complained. He leaned back in his chair and raised his right foot. It was bare, as always, and Bucky couldn't help the growing concern when he saw the dark red line along the side of it.

"Let me see." Bucky turned his chair, facing Tony.

Tony looked up, clearly surprised by the offer — which sounded more like an order, if Bucky was to be honest. Tony did as told, though, turning his chair and letting Bucky grab his foot, his heel fitting quite nicely in the palm of Bucky's metal hand. The injury was small — barely worth mentioning — but the fact that Tony had gotten hurt on Bucky's ship made him feel guilty.

"So you're going to play nursemaid now?" Tony asked, tone teasing. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the type."

There was clearly a lot about him that Tony didn't know.

"Why don't you wear shoes?" Bucky asked, not hiding his frustration. If Tony didn't insist on being barefoot all the time, this wouldn't even be an issue.

Tony shrugged, his foot still resting in Bucky's palm; he seemed in no hurry to pull back.

"I don't like wearing shoes barefoot."

That was one of the stupidest answers Bucky had ever heard.

He frowned. "Then wear socks."

"Don't have any," Tony replied.

"You—" Bucky wasn't sure what to make of that. "Why don't you have any socks?"

"The honest truth? I don't really know where to buy them around here." Tony shrugged again, this time with a crooked and slightly self-depreciating smile. "I mean, I could probably ask JARVIS, but he'd buy them in bulk and I don't really need five hundred pairs."

Bucky wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It was a miracle that Tony had survived as long as he had — he clearly wasn't someone who should be left to his own devices.

"If I buy you some, will you wear them?" Bucky knew it wasn't his responsibility — Tony was a grown man who should be able to buy his own damned socks — but Bucky had never been particularly good at abandoning people in need. If Steve was to be trusted, Bucky took being protective to a whole new level.

"What? Now?" Tony asked incredulously.

Bucky nodded. "Yes, now. There's not much to do on the ship anyway — you can finish up without me."

"Because you want to go and buy me socks." When Tony said it like that it sounded ludicrous, but Bucky was nothing if not stubborn. He gave Tony a deadpan stare, waiting patiently until Tony raised his hands. "Fine. You win. Go buy me socks, you weirdo. Can I have my foot back now? Or do you need to bring it along for size comparison?"

Bucky rolled his eyes — which only made Tony grin cheekily — and put Tony's foot back down. He rose from his seat and took a couple of steps to leave, then hesitated.

He turned to look at Tony. "Don't break anything while I'm gone."

"Wouldn't dream of it, dearest," Tony replied, sickeningly sweet.

Bucky decided not to respond to that, and instead went to grab the rest of his gear. He wouldn't be gone long, but he wasn't stupid enough to leave the workshop without his mask and goggles — and a lot more weapons.

It didn't take Bucky more than fifteen minutes to find a place that sold socks, so Tony was either incredibly lazy or reluctant to go outside. Bucky suspected the latter, since Tony had spent the three days they'd known each other locked away in the workshop, not once showing a desire to brave the outside world.

Bucky wasn't surprised by the twinge of sympathy and concern that realization brought.

He had to wonder about his life choices when he found himself buying socks for a man he was certain had a lot more money than he did. Then again, Tony clearly had no idea how to take care of himself, and Bucky liked feeling useful. He had always been more geared towards caring and protecting than violence, which might be why he found himself hating the parasite so much. They were at separate ends of the spectrum.

Sure, Bucky had beat up more than one punk who messed with Steve when they were younger _and_ fought in a war — doing quite well, he might add — but cold-blooded murder? Bucky hadn't thought himself capable of that.

Being out on the streets still put his teeth on edge, but he forced himself to remain calm. He told himself he was overreacting — there were no threats. He was just imagining it, like all the other times. Everything would be fine as soon as he made it back to the workshop. The presence at the back of his head was more agitated than usual, though, and that was difficult to ignore.

Less than a block from Tony's workshop the parasite suddenly tried to fight its way to the forefront. Bucky was so unprepared that he stumbled, swaying dangerously as he struggled to regain control of his body. They'd had several battles of wills during the past couple of months, but none like this — the parasite was lashing out like a wild animal, uncontrolled and frantic where it was usually precise and ruthless. The surge of emotions left Bucky reeling.

There was something that could have been fear, but the parasite didn't know how to _feel_ fear. There was urgency, too, and anger. The anger was familiar, but there was a hint of something else that Bucky couldn't place — something anxious.

Bucky didn't know what else to do than push it back down. The parasite fought him — more violently than it usually would — but Bucky had the upper hand. Somehow, he was able to make his way back to Tony's workshop, but he barely remembered the journey, too focused on keeping the parasite at bay.

A part of him knew he was going the wrong way — if the parasite was about to take over he should be heading _away_ from Tony, not towards him. He shouldn't put Tony at risk. But Bucky instincts told him to head for the workshop; that was where he would find safety.

JARVIS seemed to understand not to ask questions when Bucky came tumbling into the reception area. Getting across the room was more difficult than it should have been, the glass of the counter cracking under Bucky's metal hand when he slumped against it. His fingers felt numb but he managed to pull off his goggles with his flesh hand.

The door to the workshop unlocked without prompting. Bucky almost tripped on his way down the stairs, but had at least managed to get his breathing back on track. Bucky tried to shake the dizziness as he took his first steps into the workshop, but that was easier said than done with the parasite screaming inside his head.

Suddenly, Tony was there, eyes wide and concerned, reaching out towards him but stopping just shy of touching.

"Bucky! Hey. Hey, look at me. Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you hurt?" Tony inched closer when Bucky didn't recoil, leaning in to catch his gaze. "You having another episode?"

Bucky swallowed and shook his head. "No, it's..." he trailed off, not knowing how to explain. And he was nowhere near ready to deal with the fact that Tony so casually addressed Bucky's breakdowns.

The parasite was retreating, finally, but Bucky got the feeling it was furious with him — not for refusing to submit, but something else. Bucky had no idea what to make of that. His hand shook when he reached up and pressed the button to have his mask fold back.

"Let me guess — complicated?" Tony asked, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, filled with worry as they were. "Hey, I know all about complicated — it might in fact be my middle name. Well, actually, my middle name is Edward, but I think I like Complicated better."

Bucky looked down at his hands, realizing for the first time that they were empty.

"I lost the socks." He couldn't say when or where, but he must have dropped them — the goggles too.

"Hey, no problem — we'll get more. It's okay," Tony hurried to say, as if he thought Bucky might get upset about that as well. "How about we—"

"Sir, there is—"

"Not now, JARVIS," Tony interrupted, voice sharper than Bucky had ever heard him use towards the AI or his bots. Tony's hand was gentle when he touched Bucky's elbow, though, steering him further into the workshop.

"But, Sir, I really must—"

"JARVIS!" Tony admonished.

JARVIS didn't answer that time, but both Tony and Bucky jumped at the sound of the door bolting. A moment later a second clank could be heard from the hangar door and a line of lights appeared just under the ceiling, casting an eerie red glow over the workshop.

Bucky recognized emergency lockdown procedures when he saw them.

"Shit," Tony hissed. His grip on Bucky's elbow tightened for a second, before he let go in favor of rushing over to the big screen by one of his worktables. The bots, having been surprisingly quiet until then, let out confused hoots. "What do you have, JARVIS?"

"Several armed intruders have crossed the outer perimeter," JARVIS reported, voice crisp but slightly more urgent than usual. "They could potentially be heading this way."

The parasite was writhing inside Bucky's head, sending a shiver down his spine — something was very, very wrong.

"On screen," Tony ordered, several video feeds appearing a second later. Bucky could feel the first trickle of adrenaline slither through his veins as he walked up to join Tony in front of the screen. Judging by the number of angles, Tony had several cameras scattered across Knowhere — or knew how to infiltrate those owned by others. Tony's hands were flying over the virtual keyboard and Bucky didn't even try to follow his movements. "Identify them, JARVIS."

Bucky was looking at the video feeds, seeing the dark clad intruders march in tight, organized formations — like soldiers during an invasion. They must have landed at the main dock and were making their way purposefully through Knowhere. People were more than just ducking out of the way — they were fleeing in a panic — and suddenly Bucky knew exactly who was coming. He recognized how the soldiers moved, disciplined but stiff, as if they were being tugged along by invisible strings.

Bucky didn't need JARVIS to tell him who had sent the soldiers.

"They appear to be HYDRA, Sir."

Tony's eyes widened. "HYDRA? What on earth are they doing here? They're supposed to be extinct. After the Great War—"

"They're not extinct. Enough of them survived to keep spreading the virus." The words left Bucky in a rush, his chest constricting to the point of pain. He couldn't look at Tony — he didn't want to know what expression was on his face. "They followed me. I lead them here."

There was a beat of silence.

"That's why you're in such a hurry." It wasn't a question. "You're running from HYDRA."

Bucky nodded jerkily. HYDRA had caught up with him. Somehow, they had followed his trail to Knowhere, and if troops had been deployed it meant they knew where he was — they were coming for him. Had he not gone outside, they probably wouldn't have been able to pinpoint his exact location, and certainly not found Tony's workshop. There must have been scouts out on the streets, but Bucky had ignored the warning signs and his training — and now he would pay dearly.

So would Tony.

"Wow. Okay. I admit I wasn't expecting that." Tony cleared his throat. "So. We've got three platoons of the most dangerous soldiers in the galaxy heading our way — what are our options, JARVIS?"

Bucky's head snapped up, staring at Tony. "You can't fight them." He stepped closer, grabbing Tony's arm in a grip that was bordering on too tight. "They just want me. I'll—"

"Out of the question," Tony interrupted, not even allowing Bucky to finish the sentence. His glare was stubborn and Bucky knew, without even attempting to argue, that Tony definitely wouldn't bend. He turned to face Bucky, eyes blazing. "You know they won't spare me, even if you give yourself up. That's not what HYDRA does. They'll either kill me or assimilate me — probably the latter."

It felt as if someone had punched a hole through Bucky's chest. The thought of Tony being turned into one of HYDRA's mindless puppets was enough to make his heart clench from panic. Bucky couldn't let that happen.

This was his fault.

"Now," Tony picked up, "I don't know about you, but I'm not going down without a fight. We still have a couple of minutes before they arrive, so we better think of something fast. You with me?" Under the weight of Tony's stare, Bucky couldn't do much else but nod. His throat was too tight to speak and he could barely breathe around the apprehension.

HYDRA was coming. Bucky knew he didn't have time to fall apart — they needed to act and they needed to do it now — but with so much fear clogging up his veins it was difficult to think.

Luckily, Tony was in much better shape to be making decisions. He turned back to his screen, slipping out of Bucky's grasp. In that moment, Bucky realized just how far Tony would be willing to go, even for a stranger he barely knew. There was no hesitation or concern for his own safety — Tony saw a problem and was determined to fix it, no matter the cost. That kind of bravery was not only admirable, but incredibly rare.

Bucky forced himself to take a deep breath before straightening his spine; he wouldn't leave Tony to face this alone.

Bucky had fought HYDRA before — he could do it again.

They could do this.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even ashamed to admit that the joke about Tony being travel sized made me laugh. I know it shouldn't since I wrote it, but I just can't help it.
> 
> The next chapter will be mostly action and some of you will no doubt be very, very angry with me before it's over, but I promise that I'll fix everything before the end! So just... bear with me! See you next Friday, my lovelies <3


	5. The Siege

 

* * *

 

"JARVIS, give me our options," Tony ordered.

He flicked through the video feeds on his screen before minimizing them, bringing up a blueprint of the workshop instead. Bucky automatically fell back on his training and started locating exits and weak spots, though efforts had clearly been made to minimize the latter. He wasn't sure what all the brightly colored dots and symbols meant, but he got the gist of it. The workshop had an admirably high-tech security system but not many escape routes. If the front door was blocked the only other way out was the hangar door. That wasn't very good planning, seeing as Tony didn't have a ship of his own and the only option was to fly out, but Bucky knew now was not the time to point that out.

The HYDRA soldiers were still advancing, their pace steady and unhurried. They hadn't reached the building yet, but the moment they did Bucky and Tony would be more or less trapped.

"According to my predictions, the wisest choice would be the Mousetrap Protocol," JARVIS said.

Tony stiffened. He stood stock-still for two whole seconds before he shook his head.

"Not happening. Give me something better."

"Sir, the rate of success is seventy-six percent. None of the other protocols reach even half as high."

Bucky wondered just how many protocols there were — and why Tony had found it necessary to come up with them. Living in Knowhere was dangerous, yes, but this was a bit excessive for a regular mechanic. Then again, Bucky had already established that Tony was everything but ordinary, even if he didn't know all the details.

Tony gritted his teeth. "Change the parameters, JARVIS — I want offensive maneuvers, not escape plans."

"What's the Mousetrap Protocol?" Bucky cut in. Escape plans sounded a lot better in his ears; he knew how dangerous it was to fight HYDRA head on.

Tony shot him a sharp look but replied soon enough, his tone deadpan. "You've seen those piles of rubble on the floor upstairs? Well, let's just say they're not just there as decoration."

"Explosives?" Bucky guessed.

"Implosives, to be precise, but close enough. The entire workshop is rigged." Tony threw glance at Bucky before pointing at one of the red dots on the workshop blueprint. There were an alarming amount and even though Bucky suspected that the charges had to be small he felt a shiver run down his spine. Tony shrugged. "People are known to want to steal my ideas or kill me — sometimes both — so let's just call it a last resort."

"So the Mousetrap Protocol is luring the enemy into the building, then making it collapse?" There was a stiff nod; Tony seemed to be avoiding looking at Bucky. The plan made sense, though — they could flee in Bucky's ship and collapse the workshop once they were out of range, killing the HYDRA soldiers who might have gotten inside. "And you won't do it because..?"

Tony didn't answer — JARVIS did, though.

"My servers cannot be moved on such short notice."

Bucky felt something within him catch and squeeze, not only because of the way Tony's shoulders stiffened.

"JARVIS, you're telling us to blow you up?" Bucky was surprised to hear how stable his voice sounded. "To kill you?"

"I have a secondary server that is identical to this one, so I would not cease to exist completely, merely lose certain data. I am a computer program, so 'killing' me is a lot more difficult than you might think, sir." JARVIS made it sound so simple — Bucky knew it wasn't. JARVIS was more than a computer and while Bucky had only known him for a little more than two days, he was already quite fond of him.

He couldn't even imagine what this had to feel like for Tony.

Bucky gently touched Tony's arm, only to have him move out of reach. Tony still wasn't looking at him.

"There is a second server, yes." Tony's voice was flat but Bucky could see the tension coiling inside of him. "Every third month the two synch up, to prevent data loss in case one of the servers malfunctions. But the transfer is a slow process since it has to bounce across a big part of the galaxy."

"When was the last synch?" Bucky asked.

"Two months and eleven days," JARVIS replied, crisp and to the point, as always.

So that would be two months and eleven days that JARVIS would lose. Bucky could see why Tony didn't want that, aside from the obvious of essentially killing someone he considered to be his friend. JARVIS would forget a lot of things — Bucky being one of them. Technically, that would be in his favor, but it still left a painful clench in Bucky's chest.

"There are ways to back up my memory files onto a portable drive, however," JARVIS continued, "which could then be synched with the other server."

"So no memory loss?" Bucky asked.

"Exactly, sir," JARVIS confirmed.

"It's not just that," Tony snapped, whirling to face Bucky, as if he had suggested they actually go through with the plan. "If this server goes down, I can't reach the other JARVIS either — not until I come within range. I'd be... flying blind."

And completely alone.

Bucky knew better than to say that out loud, however.

"I understand," he said instead, aiming to soothe despite the urgency. They were running out of time. He didn't even need to glance at the feeds on Tony's screen to know that HYDRA was coming closer — the way the parasite was rearing its head was enough of a clue. "I don't want that any more than you do. We'll find another way."

The amount of gratefulness in Tony's eyes was heartbreaking.

"Sir, I really must object."

"Overruled," Tony snarled. "We can fight them. Fire up the suit and—"

"Sir, my scans show that there are reinforcements waiting just outside Knowhere."

Both Bucky and Tony tensed.

"How many?" Tony asked, voice faint.

"The size of the ship would suggest at least five hundred." JARVIS paused for a second, and when he continued his tone was softer. "While the suit may be able to sustain a lot of damage, it cannot fight an entire army. Also, there is only one suit currently at your disposal, but two of you. With the current conditions taken into consideration, your best odds of survival would be to flee in Mr. Bucky's ship."

Tony stood frozen, staring unseeing at the screen. His mind was probably whirring, trying to find some kind of solution, but Bucky was beginning to see JARVIS's point. He didn't _like it_ but he could understand JARVIS's reasons. Bucky had no idea what suit Tony and JARVIS were referring to, but he doubted it would help them — not if they wanted to get out of this alive.

"Sir, they have reached the third perimeter. You have five minutes before they arrive, and an estimated six more before they breach the doors."

This was not a decision Bucky could help make. He might have been able to offer tactical advice in the events of a battle, but at this point their only two options were to stay and fight — which would inevitably lead to their deaths or capture — or attempt to flee. And that was Tony's decision, not Bucky's. If Tony wanted to stay, Bucky would too. He had brought this on them and the least he could do was to see it through to the end.

Bucky hated the thought of failing Steve, but he couldn't abandon Tony.

"We can just leave?" Bucky suggested, fumbling for some kind of solution. "Without activating the implosives?"

Tony pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I can't let HYDRA have this." He gestured vaguely towards the workbenches, littered with his projects. Bucky didn't know what half of them were, but he could understand if Tony didn't want them falling into the wrong hands.

Bucky closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. This was his fault. He should have listened when the parasite started acting up — it must have noticed that they were being followed, while he had done his best to ignore his instincts. He should never have come here. He had put Tony at risk the moment he stepped inside the workshop.

How could Bucky have been so stupid?

"Tony, if you'd just let me—"

"No."

"You shouldn't have to make this decision!" Bucky exclaimed. "This is my fault — my mistakes — and you and JARVIS shouldn't have to pay for them."

"It's too late for that," Tony shot back, his voice tight but admirably controlled. He turned to face Bucky, gaze unwavering. "We don't have _time_ to argue. If we stay here, we die and my projects get stolen — including JARVIS. If we leave, we might live, JARVIS dies, and my projects get destroyed. Either way, I lose. Either way, it will hurt." Tony was well into Bucky's personal space, and even though he sounded angry, there was so much sadness in his eyes. "But if I have to choose between an AI I know I can revive or you, it's going to be you, every single time — because I can't bring people back to life. I am _not_ going to have your death on my conscience."

There was nothing Bucky could reply to that. His chest was tight, his breath caught in his throat. Tony had obviously lost someone before — been unable to save them when he thought he should have. It was there in his eyes, just as obvious as if he had said it out loud. Tony shouldn't have to go through that again, and especially not for someone like Bucky. He wasn't worth the agony.

Bucky swallowed, guilt rising inside of him. "Tony, I'm so—"

"Don't," Tony snapped. He sounded nothing like the Tony Bucky knew. He looked nothing like him, either, his face a cold, hard mask and jaw clenched tight. There was strength in him, though, his shoulders squared and chin raised.

He looked like a man ready to start a war.

Tony turned back to his screen, gaze snapping from one video feed to the next. There was so much anger burning inside of him but Bucky could tell that Tony was the kind of person who turned his rage into something useful — harnessed it to fling back at his enemies when they least expected it.

He looked like a man ready to _win_ a war.

"JARVIS," Tony's voice echoed in the quiet workshop, as if the room itself was holding its breath, "initiate the Mousetrap Protocol. Set the timer on ten minutes."

"Yes, Sir."

Bucky stared at the glowing numbers that appeared on the screen and forced his lungs to expand enough to draw in a slow, agonized breath. Ten minutes. After that, JARVIS and the workshop would be gone. Hopefully, it would be enough time for them to pack up, but not enough for the HYDRA soldiers to break through.

"JARVIS, drop the emergency lights." The red lights shut off, but Tony barely seemed to notice. "What data storing capabilities do we have? How much can we salvage?" Tony asked, bringing up two more screens. He swiped the countdown onto the left before focusing on the other two. He was bathed in bright blue light and had the situation been different, the image would have been quite beautiful.

"The backup server has one portable data drive, currently empty."

"Transfer the unsynchronized data to it," Tony ordered. Bucky had no idea how Tony was able to read everything on the screens, the words and numbers flickering by so fast that Bucky barely caught them, much less understood them.

"Sir, there is not enough room both for my memory files and your projects."

"Prioritize your files." There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Tony's voice. "Focus on the transfer and the doors, JARVIS, I'll do the rest."

"Yes, Sir," JARVIS confirmed.

Bucky felt more useless than he had in years, which was saying something. "What can I do?"

Tony didn't even look at him, but that might have been because he was busy with whatever he was doing on his screens.

"Get the ship ready for takeoff. Load the bots and those crates into it." Tony pointed towards two rectangular metal crates, stacked on top of each other. There were things scattered on the topmost lid, as if whatever was in them was rarely used, but Bucky wasn't going to argue.

Whatever he could do to help, he would.

Bucky didn't waste time on replying and instead walked over to the closest bot. Butterfingers let out a confused chirp when Bucky lifted him off the floor, his little wheels spinning. The bot was fairly heavy but what made it difficult to maneuver was the size and shape of him — getting a good grip was almost impossible. Carrying the bots would still be faster than trying to lure them up the ramp, since they didn't always do as told and might not be able to scale the steep slope.

Luckily, both DUM-E and U followed when Bucky carried Butterfingers towards the ship, probably because they wanted to see where he was taking their brother. Getting Butterfingers up the ramp took some work, and Bucky had to put him down to open the door to the storage compartment. He wished he could have been gentler when he pushed Butterfingers inside, but he didn't have time.

He could almost _feel_ the seconds tick by.

U and DUM-E were waiting at the bottom of the ramp and Bucky quickly got to work on getting them on board. It proved a frustrating challenge, since even when they were safely up the ramp, neither of the bots wanted to stay inside the storage room. It was big enough to fit all three of them, but didn't give them much space to move. Bucky was glad he had nothing fragile in there, since the bots bumped into the shelves and each other, beeping in confusion and what might have been outrage.

Bucky allowed himself a deep breath once he closed the door with the three bots safely on the other side, then headed for the open ramp. He was halfway down when he heard the first distant explosion. The workshop shook and Bucky hurried the last couple of steps.

"Tony?" he called, not able to hide the worry in his voice.

"Not me!" Tony shouted back. "They're trying to get through the first door. It's reinforced, but it won't hold them for long."

The crates were not far from where Tony stood and Bucky threw a glance at the screens. Six minutes and twenty-eight seconds. JARVIS's data transfer was at thirty-nine percent.

"Will they trigger the implosives upstairs?" Bucky asked, shoving the various tools and knick-knacks off the crate's lid. More than one broke when they hit the floor but Tony didn't react.

"No, only JARVIS or I can do that. They might _find_ them, since they've more or less swarmed the place, but since it's HYDRA, I'm guessing none of the soldiers will take the initiative to attempt to disarm the charges." Tony sounded distracted, but there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his words.

HYDRA soldiers weren't programmed to make own decisions.

Bucky would have wanted to carry both of the crates at the same time — he probably could have as far as weight was concerned — but they were too big and unwieldy. It took him over a minute to carry and unload the crates into the second, unused cabin on his ship, and he didn't bother checking in with Tony before he rushed towards the bridge.

There was another distant explosion, but Bucky knew he couldn't do anything about that.

Sliding into the pilot seat was familiar but the urgency was not. Bucky and the parasite had been sent out on several missions using this ship but whenever the parasite was in control, everything seemed so much simpler. The parasite was much more calm and rational than Bucky, possibly because it didn't care about anything except following orders. It shook off injuries without a second thought and never feared for its own life — there was never a feeling of danger when the parasite was in charge.

This time, however, far too much was at stake.

Bucky knew the moment the soldiers breached the first door, not only because of the rumbling of the third explosion and snap of the door breaking, but the thundering footsteps descending the stairs. The second door would hold them for another couple of minutes, but Bucky knew it was only a matter of time before they came pouring into the workshop. He had to get Tony out of the line of fire before that. Bucky might be able to withstand the first wave, but Tony probably wouldn't.

Bucky started flipping the necessary switches, his heart thrumming in his chest. The engines whirred to life, the screens in front of him lighting up. For a brief second, Bucky wasn't sure what he was looking at — he didn't recognize the interface. Tony must have done something to it. Bucky felt a momentary flare of panic but pushed it down as quickly as possible. The engines were up and running, all systems active — everything was in working order.

The ground shook when the next explosion went off and Bucky could hear the metal of the door groan in protest. They didn't have much time.

He shot up for his chair and jogged through the ship, hurrying down the ramp.

"Tony! We gotta go!" he shouted, not surprised to find Tony right where he left him, typing something that Bucky didn't bother reading.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds. JARVIS's transfer was at eighty-six percent.

"Not yet," Tony replied distractedly before pressing enter.

"They'll break through any minute now," Bucky warned.

"JARVIS is almost done," Tony replied, turning from his screens to open a hatch in the floor, almost wide enough to fit a grown man. "Help me pull this up."

Bucky obeyed, hoping it would make Tony leave quicker. Inside the hole was what looked to be a server tower, glowing softly and humming from activity. When they tugged the tower rose higher, stopping and locking into position when it reached Bucky mid-thigh. Tony circled the tower, throwing a quick glance at JARVIS's progress.

Eighty-nine percent.

Tony's back was to the door so he didn't see what Bucky did — or hear the whine of the detonators as they powered up.

"Tony!"

Bucky took the two short strides between them just as the door exploded with a deafening roar. He looped his right arm around Tony's waist and twisted in one smooth motion, turning his back to the flying debris. Bucky curled around Tony, pushing them both to the floor, shielding him from as much of the blast as he could. There was a loud crack and a sharp jolt when something hit Bucky's metal arm, but he only allowed himself a hiss of pain, refusing to move.

His left arm was shielding Tony's head.

The rumbling stopped within seconds, Bucky unfurling to look across the workshop. Tables had been tipped over, tools and spare parts scattered across the floor, and through the dust cloud came the first HYDRA soldiers, pouring in from the gaping doorway.

The parasite growled.

"I need two more minutes," Tony said, scrambling out of Bucky's arms, reaching for a plain metal box that had fallen to the floor during the explosion. The panic of seeing Tony out of cover made Bucky want to reel him back in, especially when the first shot zipped past. He couldn't let Tony die.

Almost on a reflex Bucky grabbed the edge of the nearest workbench, tipping it onto its side with a sharp shove, ignoring the twinge in his left arm as he did so. As long as Tony kept his head down the steel tabletop would offer some cover.

"Tony! We—" Before he had time to finish the sentence, Tony tossed him whatever he had pulled out of the box. Bucky automatically caught it, not surprised when it turned out to be a gun. A Stark gun — the last model before they shut down weapons manufacturing on a permanent basis. The parasite had been issued one during one of their missions two years ago.

"I trust you can handle that?" Tony's voice was raw but he looked admirably calm, save for the worry in his eyes. "Please, Bucky — just give me two more minutes."

Bucky glanced at the countdown, the holographic screens the only thing unaffected by the blast — three minutes and eight seconds. JARVIS's transfer was at ninety-two percent. He felt himself waver.

"One minute," Bucky growled, firing up the gun as he spoke, "and then I'm _carrying_ you to the ship."

Tony gave a sharp nod while Bucky raised his hand to his right ear, letting the mask slide back into place. The dust hadn't quite settled yet and he didn't have time to worry about coughing on top of everything else.

"Stay," he ordered, ignoring Tony's amused snort.

Bucky braced his foot against the edge of the tipped table and pushed off, scaling the improvised barrier in one smooth leap. He was firing before he had even landed, picking off three soldiers in rapid succession. A knife found its way into his left hand as he dove to meet the opposition.

His priority was to keep them from reaching Tony.

Bucky let his training take over — dodging, twisting, firing, and slicing. Instead of keeping score of how many soldiers he incapacitated, he counted down the seconds inside his head. The parasite remained obedient, not once trying to take over, even if this kind of carnage was what it knew best.

Fire. Duck. Turn. Fire. Stab. Turn. Fire. Fire. Duck. Stab. Fire.

It came naturally, in a way that was both unsettling and freeing. Bucky didn't need to think — he acted purely on instinct, no hesitation or second guesses. This he knew how to do, even if he had never asked to become the kind of monster who could eviscerate enemy after enemy without as much as a flinch.

Bucky dodged a sloppy attempt to knock him out, plunging the knife into the HYDRA soldier's side a split second later. Without pause he pulled the knife free, twisted to the right, and fired twice at a second soldier. Not a single one of the HYDRA soldiers screamed as they went down; their eyes were blank and empty both before and in death.

"Transfer complete." JARVIS voice echoed in the wide hangar, loud enough to be heard over the sound of firing guns. That was the cue Bucky had been waiting for, even if Tony's minute wasn't quite up yet.

Bucky had managed to push the soldiers back, away from Tony, but he knew they would advance the moment he retreated — they didn't know fear and would keep marching until they had finished their mission, no matter how many he killed in the process. Somehow, he needed to keep them at bay long enough that he and Tony could reach the ship without getting shot in the back.

His heart was beating loud but steady in his chest, the parasite keeping well out of his way. Bucky quickly glanced across the workshop, a plan taking form.

With a sharp flick of his wrist his knife buried into the chest of the closest HYDRA soldier, before Bucky turned and ran back a couple of steps. He wasn't sure exactly what was in the tall gas tank that was hooked up to one of Tony's numerous machines, but Bucky figured it was flammable. Tearing it free of its stand was easy enough, even if the metal plates of his arm seemed to be grinding together — whatever hit it had damaged it pretty badly.

"Two minutes until detonation," JARVIS informed, voice crisp and calm — as if those two minutes weren't his last.

Bucky gritted his teeth against the flash of pain in his arm, focusing instead on grabbing a hold of the top of the gas tank and flinging it at the approaching soldiers. The heavy cylinder knocked two HYDRA soldiers off their feet as it slid across the floor, hollow clanks echoing in the workshop when it bumped against debris. Bucky waited until the gas tank was in the midst of the hoard of soldiers before he took aim and fired.

The explosion pushed Bucky backwards, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He stumbled but didn't fall, and was running towards Tony as soon as he found his bearings. Bucky had bought them a couple of seconds but he could already hear footsteps coming down the stairs, signaling the arrival of more troops.

" _Now_ , Tony!" Bucky barked, just as Tony finished retrieving one of the drives from the server tower. With a ruthless yank Bucky pulled Tony to his feet and pushed him towards the ship, ignoring Tony's startled yelp.

Twice Bucky had to turn and fire back at the soldiers in pursuit.

"JARVIS! Hangar doors! And seal the other entrance!" Tony shouted as he ran up the ramp, heading for the bridge without a second glance, the data drive clutched in his hand.

As soon as he was on board Bucky pushed the button to close the ramp, watching it rise with what felt like a painfully slow pace. A dark shape reached for the closing gap but one swift shot from Bucky kept the HYDRA soldier from boarding. There was a distant rumble, which he assumed was JARVIS blocking off the exit upstairs, trapping the HYDRA soldiers inside the building. Bucky braced against the movement when the ship started rising, waiting until the ramp was fully closed before heading towards the bridge.

Tony was in the left pilot seat, already turning the ship around to face the opening hangar doors, the data drive lying in his lap.

JARVIS's voice echoed in the room, "One minute until detonation."

"Yes, we know," Tony replied tightly, while Bucky slid into the other seat, placing the gun on top of the console to his right. Shudders went through the ship from the volleys the soldiers fired, but it wasn't enough to damage the hull to any major degree.

Bucky allowed Tony to steer, knowing that they would only lose precious seconds if he tried to intervene. Instead he brought up the navigation panel, followed by the controls for the few weapons his ship was equipped with. It had been built for stealth rather than battle, but according to JARVIS there was a big ship waiting for them out there and they needed whatever advantage they could get. The interface still looked foreign and _wrong_ , but Bucky managed.

Tony maneuvered the ship with impressive ease, flying her out of the hangar as soon as the gap was wide enough.

"How big is the blast radius?" Bucky asked, reaching for the overhead switches to stabilize pressure and oxygen, trying not to grimace when he felt his left arm spasm in protest. They had bigger things to worry about than a malfunctioning arm.

"Not big at all. I've calculated it and placed the charges so that none of the nearby buildings should be affected." Tony was staring straight ahead, his shoulders stiff and jaw tightly clenched. He was flying the ship out of range from the blast but still kept her within the borders of Knowhere, probably because they needed a strategy before facing the HYDRA ship waiting for them outside.

"Thirty seconds to detonation," JARVIS informed.

Tony showed no sign of having heard what JARVIS was saying. The silence hung heavy in the ship, pressing down on them and making it difficult to breathe. That tension, rather than the battle he'd just left behind, made Bucky's heart race, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He knew how fragile this moment was — what Tony was about to lose.

There were no words Bucky could speak that would make things better.

"Sir, please take care of yourself." JARVIS's voice was soft and unmistakably fond, even if AI's were supposedly just computers — made out of code and wires, incapable of emotion. Bucky assumed that whoever said that had never met JARVIS. "Goodbye — until we meet again."

Tony swallowed and cleared his throat. "See you soon, buddy." His voice was horribly flat. "Disengage linkup."

There was no sound to signal that JARVIS was gone, or even a faint tremor of the workshop collapsing — they were too far away to see or feel it, slipping into the flow of ships at the other end of Knowhere. Bucky barely dared to breathe in fear of making things worse. Even more so when Tony removed the small earpiece he used to communicate with JARVIS, dropping it carelessly onto the console on his left, his expression unsettlingly blank.

Bucky's heart clenched.

"Tony, I'm—"

"I'm taking her outside. We should be able to sneak past the HYDRA ship using the stealth function," Tony interrupted, dodging the subject without grace, but a lot of determination.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, until he realized what Tony had said. Then he frowned, briefly looking down at the control panel in front of him. "My ship doesn't have a stealth function."

It was _built_ for stealth, but HYDRA hadn't bothered to pay for something so expensive on a ship they expected to lose sooner or later. Bucky and the parasite might have been one of the HYDRA's biggest assets, but they were still expendable.

"It does now," Tony replied curtly.

"You installed a stealth function?" Bucky asked incredulously — as far as he knew that required both additional parts and the appropriate software.

"Amongst other things."

"You—" Bucky cut himself off, not sure what to say. A part of him was angry — it was _his_ ship and he hadn't asked for upgrades or additions — but now was clearly not the time to get into an argument about what Tony had or hadn't done to his ship. Not when Bucky had made sure that Tony lost one of his closest friends, even if that friend happened to be an AI.

Bucky took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do?"

"Keep an eye out for obstacles and enemy ships." Tony flipped a couple of switches, clearly avoiding so much as glancing in Bucky's direction. His voice was empty and cold. "We'll be more or less invisible, but people can still bump into us."

A lump appeared in Bucky's throat, but he swallowed it down and nodded. Tony had every right to hate him. Bucky shouldn't feel hurt — not when his carelessness had cost Tony so much.

He focused on the navigation and keeping the guns ready, just in case. The parasite was restless, but not in a way that felt threatening — it was as if it could feel the tension in the air and disliked it just as much as Bucky did. That made no sense, however, because that had nothing to do with threats of violence and everything to do with Tony and his grief.

The parasite shouldn't care about that.

Tony handled their escape beautifully. He clearly didn't need any input from Bucky, operating the controls and computer as if he had been born to do it, never hesitating — not even when they passed the outer edges of Knowhere and saw the HYDRA ship looming in the distance. Smaller ships circled it, no doubt waiting for reports from the deployed soldiers, ready to send in reinforcements should it be deemed necessary.

Bucky briefly wondered if three platoons would have been enough to overpower him and the parasite. They were not only better trained than the regular foot soldiers, but had enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and healing. And despite being born from the HYDRA virus the parasite wasn't a blank slate like most of the assimilated soldiers seemed to become. Bucky knew that the parasite had emotions, even if it was usually just anger and distrust, and it knew how to make decisions to better ensure the success of the mission. It didn't have an own will as such, but it seemed to have more of a conscious mind than the rest.

For some reason, Bucky and the parasite weren't like the other HYDRA soldiers.

The silence lingered even as they left Knowhere behind. Bucky felt the pressure in his chest grow worse for each minute that Tony remained silent. He was usually so eager to talk that it was all the more obvious how much pain he was in, now that he didn't.

Bucky startled when Tony eventually spoke up, fifteen minutes after they'd slipped away without the HYDRA ship noticing.

"Leave the stealth mode on for another hour." Tony pressed a couple of buttons, not meeting Bucky's gaze. "Set whatever coordinates you like."

With that Tony got up from the pilot chair and fled the bridge without another word, carrying the data drive with him. The earpiece lay forgotten where Tony had dropped it. Bucky closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe, slowly forcing air in and out of his lungs. He deserved the cold shoulder — he knew he did — but he ached for Tony. He wanted to help, even if he knew that he was probably the last person Tony wanted to talk to right now.

The problem was just that now that JARVIS was gone, Bucky was the _only_ person Tony could talk to.

Bucky leaned forward, bracing his elbows against the main console. He flinched when his hands went to his face; he was still wearing the mask. No wonder Tony didn't want to look at him — Bucky didn't exactly seem approachable or sympathetic with it on. A simple press of a button and the mask slid away.

Bucky sighed, hiding his face in his hands. What a fucking mess he'd made. He knew that his mission was important, but that didn't give him the right to completely wreck Tony's life. The man had to sacrifice his friend, his work, and his home because Bucky couldn't do his job.

If only he had listened to the parasite.

Bucky froze. A shiver traveled through him as realization began dawning. He straightened, staring out at the stars beyond the thick layer of glass in front of him.

"You were trying to warn me."

He didn't have a habit of speaking to the other part of himself, but he didn't know how else to communicate with it. The parasite unfurled slightly, but remained passive.

"You noticed we were being followed. Did you know they were HYDRA?"

The parasite couldn't reply with words and the impressions it sent were difficult to interpret, but Bucky could tell it wasn't denying knowing who had come for them — even before Bucky or JARVIS had.

"You—" Bucky took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He thought back on the attack on the workshop, how the parasite had growled in anger when HYDRA broke through the door, and how it had remained curled up at the back of Bucky's mind the entire time, much less of a distraction than usual. Bucky felt a jolt in his chest. "You don't want to go back either."

He had always assumed that the moment the parasite gained control it would attempt to return to HYDRA; that was what all those who were assimilated were trained to do. Bucky felt no such urge, but he knew that the parasite should — it had been created by the virus, trained and indoctrinated to follow HYDRA's ideology. It wasn't supposed to be able to think outside of the parameters HYDRA had given it, and certainly not be able to make the decision to fight _against_ HYDRA, even if that had mostly been accomplished by not getting in Bucky's way.

The parasite's only reply was a steady hum of satisfaction. Bucky knew better than to assume that the parasite was on his side, but for now he could appreciate how it eased back, putting less pressure on Bucky's fraying nerves. He had more questions, but he doubted the parasite would answer.

After a heavy sigh he focused back on the console in front of him, trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to press to enter the flight coordinates. Bucky was obviously going to need a crash course on the upgrades Tony had done if he wanted to be able to steer his own ship.

If Tony was still willing to talk to him after what happened, that was.

Bucky knocked on the doorframe to the storage room, trying to ignore the nervous clench in his gut. It had taken him almost two hours to gather up the courage to walk the relatively short distance between the bridge and the back of the ship, where he knew Tony had headed.

During those two hours Bucky had managed to set their course and look over what injuries he had sustained during the attack on the workshop, not surprised to find that all of them had healed already, or were well on their way. His arm was still acting up, but as long as he kept his movements small it wasn't too much of a bother.

"Hey." His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

Tony looked up from where he sat, cross-legged on the floor next to DUM-E. There wasn't much space left in the storage compartment, but Tony had somehow been able to squeeze in with the bots. All three of them stood eerily motionless and the lack of greeting chirps made Bucky frown.

"They were connected to the same server," Tony explained, turning his gaze back to DUM-E, his hand running fondly along the robot's side. "Without it, they can't function."

Bucky's throat seized. Had they killed the bots too?

Tony shot him a quick glance, his expression unreadable.

"Their data and programming is stored locally—" Tony rapped his knuckles against DUM-E's chassis, "—but JARVIS forwards their orders. They bounce everything through JARVIS's servers, so without him, they're..."

"Dormant?" Bucky suggested, lingering just outside the doorway. It was his ship, but entering the storage room would have felt like overstepping his bounds.

"I was going to say useless, but dormant works too." The words were spoken carelessly, maybe even as a joke, but they sounded horribly wrong thanks to the sharp edge in Tony's voice.

"Tony, I'm sorry." Bucky was — he really, truly was. This shouldn't have happened. Tony had been torn away from his home, and for what? A battle he had no real part in, all because he had been kind enough to help a fucked-up HYDRA soldier who came to him for repairs. This was Bucky's fault — if he hadn't been there, Tony would never have been put in danger.

Tony didn't even acknowledge Bucky's apology.

"So, is this where I'll be sleeping too? It's a little cramped and not really up to my usual standards, but I guess we all have to make sacrifices sometimes." Tony pulled himself to his feet with the help of DUM-E's motionless arm. "Or is this a bunk bed situation? If so, I claim top bunk."

"No, there's..." Bucky blanched, caught off guard by the change in subject. "The spare cabin. You can take that." Bucky would have to move the crates Tony told him to bring along, but that wouldn't take more than a couple of seconds.

"You're telling me I get an _actual_ room, all to myself? You're spoiling me." Tony's smile didn't reach his eyes, and what might have been a perfectly good joke a couple of hours ago now felt forced and hurtful. Not that Tony didn't have a right to be spiteful, but it was so clearly an attempt to push Bucky away — to hide the grief and the anger — that it cut so much deeper.

Tony had lost his _home_ because of Bucky.

"Tony—"

"I think you and I should make a rule about not taking my name in vain, Buckling. You sound like a record on repeat," Tony interrupted, sharper and more ruthless.

"You won't let me finish," Bucky bit out through clenched teeth.

"That's because I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear what you have to say." Tony raised his chin, glaring defiantly.

Bucky had expected the animosity — he really had — but he still felt something inside of him break at those words. He swallowed down the hurt as swiftly as he could. At least Tony wasn't trying to dance around the subject anymore.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, the words coming out more frustrated than he had intended. He felt defeated, if anything.

"The truth would be a good start." Tony stepped around DUM-E, moving towards the doorway but stopping just out of Bucky's reach. His eyes were hard, completely void of their usual warmth. "I don't want apologies — I want answers. Why is HYDRA after you?"

"I can't."

The moment Bucky spoke those words, he knew they were the wrong thing to say. Tony's expression went blank, his body language closing off, shutting Bucky out completely. It would have been easier if Tony had started shouting, pointing out just how much he had lost to Bucky's secrets — that he had the _right_ to know, after what he'd gone through — but that was clearly not how Tony operated. He retreated instead, pulling everything closer to his chest to better guard his feelings.

"Well, I guess we're in for a very silent trip, then," Tony retorted, voice eerily calm. Before Bucky had time to protest, Tony had reached up and pressed the button on his side of the door, making it slide close with a soft whoosh.

Bucky stared at the smooth metal surface inches from his face. Even if he could open the door again — it was _his_ ship — he knew he wouldn't. Tony had every right to be angry with him, and Bucky really couldn't give him any answers. Well, he _could_ , but he shouldn't. The less Tony knew, the safer he was. Bucky was only trying to protect him, while simultaneously remain loyal to his mission. Steve would probably agree that not telling was better; the information Bucky carried wasn't confidential, exactly, but spreading it to the wrong people could be dangerous. It was better this way.

The parasite let out a frustrated snarl, nudging Bucky in a way that felt unmistakably reprimanding — disappointed, even.

"Stay out of this," Bucky hissed, before turning to move Tony's metal crates out of the spare cabin. He wasn't sure when Tony would come out from the storage room, but he might want someplace to sleep.

Besides, there wasn't much else Bucky could do at that point. He still needed to change out of his blood-splattered clothes, but the course was set for now and he wasn't hungry. He probably wouldn't have been able to eat even if he wanted to.

As Bucky moved the crates to the far back of the ship he couldn't help glancing at the closed door to the storage room every time he passed it, feeling the guilt and worry rise. Tony was trying to hide how much he was suffering, but Bucky wasn't fooled. The man had lost almost everything — all because of Bucky.

Once the second crate was in place he found himself stopping, staring straight ahead, unseeing.

His hand drifted towards the memory drive in his pant pocket, but he snatched it back again. He couldn't. Tony might _think_ he wanted answers, but this was bigger than both of them. It was too dangerous, for everyone involved. The parasite didn't agree, judging by the contempt it radiated, but Bucky ignored it, just like he had the past four months. Even if Tony would never forgive him, he shouldn't pull him deeper into this mess. He shouldn't.

It was safer if Tony didn't know.

Bucky clenched his hands, feeling the bones and metal shift. Safer for who, exactly? Had Tony known about the possibilities of HYDRA attacking he could have asked JARVIS to monitor the traffic and spotted the threat earlier; not knowing hadn't helped Tony in the least.

No, if Bucky was protecting anyone, it was himself. He didn't want Tony to know who Bucky was — what he had done and what was hiding at the back of his head. He didn't want Tony to pull away from him. But Tony _deserved_ to know. He was trapped in a ship with a monster and keeping the truth for him might be more dangerous than sharing.

The only reason Bucky didn't want to tell him was his own cowardice.

Bucky gritted his teeth and turned on his heel. He was not going to be that person. He was not going to put his own comfort before Tony's survival.

What was the point of having a will of his own if he was just going to make poor decisions?

The door to the storage room slid open with a smooth hiss, making Tony look up from where he stood leaning against the wall-mounted shelves. He snapped to attention, his expression wary, as if he expected an argument. Bucky knew better than to step into the room — he didn't want Tony to feel cornered — but reached into his pocket and fished out the memory drive, holding it out towards Tony.

"This is the reason." Bucky's voice was firmer than he'd expected.

Tony hesitated before stepping closer. He carefully took the memory drive from Bucky, looking both intrigued and confused.

"I stole it from them," Bucky explained, seeing Tony's eyes widen. "They want it and me back." Bucky forced himself to go on. "You might not like what you find, but it's all there. You can access the files through the main computer. I suggest you at least read the one titled 'The Winter Soldier'."

Tony stiffened and for a second it looked like he might have stopped breathing. Bucky didn't allow himself to linger on why.

"If you..." He swallowed before clearing his throat. "I won't blame you if you never speak to me again, but you're right — you deserve answers. This is what I can give you."

Bucky took a step back, holding his head high even if he felt like crumpling to his knees.

"What you do with the information is up to you — just don't destroy it."

It took a couple of seconds before Tony nodded, showing that he had understood. He didn't seem able to speak. Bucky felt horrible for what he was forcing Tony to go through.

"Just know that I'm sorry, Tony," Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

When Tony didn't reply, Bucky decided to beat a hasty retreat, disappearing into his own cabin to calm the storm of guilt and nausea — and to push back the parasite. It seemed happier now, but Bucky decided not to ask himself why. He was too busy fighting down the worry and apprehension.

Whatever happened now was up to Tony.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good start on the new year, yeah?
> 
> I do feel quite horrible for what I did to JARVIS, but I only have myself to blame because there was no way for them to bring him along. I suck, clearly.
> 
> I'm strangely fond of writing action. I mean, it's difficult and I worry constantly that it will be bad, but I still like writing it. And I hope you enjoyed reading it <3


	6. The Soldier

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn't used to having someone else on his ship, and even less so someone he might or might not be avoiding. There had always been enough space for him — more than needed, in fact — but as soon as a second person was introduced the ship seemed a whole lot smaller. Not helped in the least by Bucky's heightened senses, which meant that he heard Tony even from several rooms away. Bucky couldn't deny that it was helpful, though, since he knew where _not_ to go, if he wanted to bypass Tony.

The avoidance was actually more for Tony's sake than his own. Tony needed time, both to process the loss of JARVIS and the horrifying things he was going to find on the memory drive. Bucky figured that if Tony wanted to talk to him, he'd come find him, but until then Bucky tried to be as non-intrusive as possible. It felt weird to sneak around in his own ship, but he was determined to give Tony the space he needed.

During that first night Tony had relocated to the spare cabin, like Bucky had suggested, but only after Bucky was already locked away in his own room. Almost two days had passed since then; they didn't speak and hadn't so much as glimpsed each other in the hallways. Bucky knew Tony had found the combined kitchen and common room, though, and that he'd eaten at least three times — which was surprisingly often for Tony. He had also spent hours in front of the ship's computer, no doubt going through the memory drive Bucky had given him.

Knowing that left Bucky feeling both relieved and nervous, since Tony might attempt to kill him in his sleep once he'd read up on the Winter Soldier. Tony wouldn't _manage_ — Bucky had to get the information to Steve before anyone was allowed to kill him — but he might _try_.

Most people would, once they realized they were trapped in the same spaceship as a HYDRA soldier — an enhanced one, at that.

Bucky's plan was to let Tony disembark at the closest safe harbor, but it was easier said than done to find one of those, especially if he wanted to remain somewhat on course for his meeting with Steve. It was the best Bucky could offer under the circumstances, and meant that Tony wouldn't have to put up with his company for more than another couple of days.

On the third night since they left Knowhere, Bucky sat down to plot the new course, even if he still wasn't entirely sure where to drop Tony off. By Bucky's count he wasn't necessarily behind schedule yet, so he could make a small detour if necessary. That still didn't leave him with a whole lot of options, since most harbors in this part of the galaxy were less than savory, and he refused to abandon Tony and his bots someplace where they would be even worse off.

The parasite had, in lack of a better word, been _sulking_ for the past two days. It didn't improve Bucky's mood to have a constant hum of dissatisfaction at the back of his head, but at least they weren't outright fighting — small mercies, and all that. He still wasn't sure what to make of the parasite's actions in Knowhere, and it was difficult to ask without feeling like an idiot for talking to himself.

Bucky suppressed a sigh and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. He'd put his hair up to keep it out of the way, but he had forgotten that if he did, there was nothing covering the injection port at the top of his spine. He knew it was a sign of nerves, but he couldn't stop touching it, his fingertips brushing over the smooth, metal circle. All HYDRA soldiers had one, but Bucky was one of the few who could actually feel uncomfortable about it.

"Hey."

Bucky jumped, reflexively snatching the gun still lying on top of the right-hand console before turning his chair to aim at the source of the sound.

Tony raised his hands, his expression blank but eyes wary.

"I—" Bucky swallowed, hastily lowering the gun, feeling the burn of both horror and guilt. When would he stop pulling out weapons as soon as Tony tried to talk to him? "Sorry. I didn't hear you." He wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed; the parasite usually tensed up if a threat approached.

"I can see that," Tony replied pointedly, not stepping closer but not backing away either. He remained well out of Bucky's physical reach, clearly not trusting him now that he knew who Bucky really was.

Bucky turned his gaze away, ignoring the sharp stab of pain he felt at seeing Tony's wariness, even if it was well-deserved. Slowly, he leaned forward, placing the gun on the left pilot seat, hoping Tony would feel somewhat safer if the weapon was in plain sight — he wouldn't be able to miss if Bucky reached for it again.

The silence lingered, heavy and oppressive, and Bucky leaned back in his seat, keeping his gaze lowered. He suspected Tony had come to talk to him, but he couldn't bring himself to speak up first. Bucky's heart was beating against his ribcage and he clenched his hands in his lap, mostly to keep himself from reaching for the injection port again.

"I have a couple of questions," Tony said, once the silence had grown from awkward to downright unbearable. He didn't move, even if that left him standing just on the edge of the bridge, as if he was ready to bolt at any given second — perhaps he was.

Bucky couldn't manage more than a tight nod, making sure not to move his hands — he didn't want Tony to misinterpret it as an act of aggression.

"I read your file." The words were spoken calmly but Bucky couldn't help stiffening, bracing himself for what was to come — the anger and disgust in Tony's voice. "Fascinating read, I must say. So, my first and biggest question is why it says you were assimilated. You clearly aren't."

Bucky's throat was dry but he eventually managed to answer. "I was. I _am_." He looked up at Tony, meeting his cold, hard gaze, even if it caused a painful twist in Bucky's gut. "I... broke the programming."

"That's impossible." Tony crossed his arms over his chest, but he looked confused rather than angry. "There is no cure for the HYDRA virus — everyone knows that."

Bucky nodded. "I know. It's still there — the virus, I mean. But I'm the one in control."

Tony stared Bucky, as if trying to figure out what kind of freak he had in front of him.

"I don't believe you."

Bucky felt his heart sink, even if he couldn't blame Tony for doubting him.

"I _am_ HYDRA," he insisted, voice softer than he would have liked. Tony's jaw was still tightly clenched, his posture stubborn and defensive. Bucky swallowed before turning slightly in his chair, baring the back of his neck. At the sound of Tony's sharp intake of breath, Bucky's fingers automatically rose to touch the injection port. He covered the small metal circle with his hand, as if that would remove it from existence. "I wish I wasn't, but I am," he said quietly, trying to push back the shame and guilt.

The silence that settled between them lasted several seconds. Bucky leaned back in his seat, eventually daring to lower his hand. The injection port was the reason why he hadn't cut his hair. Much like he tried to cover his metal arm at all times, he was uncomfortable showing what HYDRA had installed at the back of his neck.

Once he finally dared to glance up at Tony, Bucky saw a surprising lack of suspicion, but still a whole lot of doubt.

"There are thousands — literally _thousands_ — of HYDRA soldiers being held prisoner across the galaxy," said Tony, "because the Alliance doesn't believe in executing enemy soldiers they've captured. Some have been there for over five decades, yet none of them show any sign of recovering from the procedure, despite countless hours of therapy and medical treatment." Tony's eyes narrowed. "So why would you?"

"I don't know," Bucky replied truthfully. "I'm not... like the others."

"You mean you're enhanced?"

Bucky nodded mutely.

"The file said you were highly compatible with the virus, that's why you're stronger than the others. Elite HYDRA, if you will." Tony sounded less frustrated now, and more like he would when met with a complicated problem that needed solving. "That's why you weren't stationed as a regular recruit."

Bucky nodded again. "The more... gifted soldiers either become low ranking officers or trained assets. I was the latter."

"The Winter Soldier." Tony's voice grew noticeably colder when he said the name.

The tension in the room made it difficult to breathe and Bucky's gaze returned to the floor.

"You've heard the name before." It wasn't a question.

"Most people living in Knowhere have, but no one knows he's HYDRA since they're supposedly extinct. The majority think the Winter Soldier is just a particularly ruthless mercenary — some believe he's nothing more than a myth."

"We're real alright," Bucky muttered.

There was a short pause.

"We?" Tony asked dubiously.

"The other one and I." Bucky gestured vaguely towards his head. His file said nothing about what he assumed could be classified as a split personality, but he saw no reason to hide it — Tony already knew everything else. Besides, Tony needed to be prepared in case the parasite took over at some point. "It's been there since the assimilation procedure."

"The virus created a second personality?" The exact emotion in Tony's voice was difficult to determine and Bucky didn't dare look up at him — a nod would have to do. "So when you said you're in control, you mean literally? There's you and then there's the HYDRA virus, battling for control."

"More or less," Bucky confirmed.

Tony let out a whistle. "That's fucked up."

"Tell me about it," Bucky mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. He was getting tired of all the fighting, even if he was stronger than the parasite nowadays. He hadn't been before, when all of this started, but once he'd woken up from the initial apathy he was able to remain in charge by sheer force of will.

Perhaps that was the reason — he had a clear goal and a free will, unlike the parasite.

"So you don't obey HYDRA?"

Bucky felt a flicker of annoyance, even if Tony had every right to ask. "Does it look like I'm following their orders?"

Tony let out a snort that could have been a laugh, had the situation been different. "No, it looks like you're betraying them — which is quite commendable."

There wasn't much Bucky could reply to that, so he remained silent.

"How long have you been in control?" Tony asked.

Bucky swallowed. "About four months."

"But the Winter Soldier has been wreaking havoc since the end of the Great War," Tony pointed out. "So that was technically the virus? _He's_ the Winter Soldier, not you."

This was beginning to sound a whole lot like the conversation Bucky had had with Steve. Tony didn't seem the least bit angry anymore. Bucky dared to look up, catching Tony's gaze and finding none of the hate he had expected — there was an abundance of compassion, though.

He had no idea what to do with that.

"It... he's a parasite," he found himself saying. "An addition to what I was before. We have the same skills, physical traits, and share certain memories, but we're not the same person. He's just... _there_ , waiting and watching, like I was before." Bucky couldn't stop the words suddenly spilling from his lips. "He doesn't do much, except occasionally try to take over, like back in Knowhere, just before HYDRA arrived. But I can't let him, because I don't know what he'll do to us, or... _make_ us do. I hate him — for what we did when he was in control — but at the same time I know he's just followin' orders."

"He doesn't know better," Tony filled in, nodding slowly, as if things were beginning to make sense. He took a step closer. "So this parasite was the one performing all those assassinations the past thirty-eight years, and he's still in there somewhere, hiding inside your head?"

"Well, not really hiding," Bucky corrected. "He's actually pretty loud — and opinionated, from time to time."

"You talk to him?" Tony's eyebrows shot up, looking surprisingly intrigued.

"Not as such, but he sees what I do and... communicates. Mostly through pushing his emotions at me."

"Fascinating," Tony mumbled. He walked over to sit down in the left-hand pilot seat, picking up the gun and placing it on the main console without really looking. Bucky had to fight his instinct to press against the back of his chair, unnerved by how close Tony suddenly was. He should know better than to come within Bucky's reach.

Bucky clenched his hands in his lap but made sure to keep them motionless aside from that.

Tony was seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was sitting face to face with a mass murderer. He caught Bucky's gaze, his brown eyes keen. "So, let me get this straight. Winter is the result of the assimilation procedure, but rather than erasing your personality, he merely overpowered you and controlled your shared body for roughly thirty-eight years. Four months ago you were somehow able to fight back, so now you're running the show."

Bucky nodded, assuming that 'Winter' was what Tony chose to call the parasite — it was easier to say, he supposed.

"He's watching this, isn't he?"

The question caught Bucky off guard but he answered soon enough, even if he didn't manage more than a croaked, "Yeah."

To his surprise, Tony didn't freak out. He looked thoughtful, if anything, and leaned closer, elbows braced against his knees. He tilted his head to the side, studying Bucky's face with the kind of intensity that was downright unnerving — as if he was trying to read all of Bucky's secrets, or possibly make him reveal them just so that he'd get away from the scrutiny.

"Hello, Winter," Tony said, tone wry and slightly sharper than when he spoke to Bucky. "I'm Tony."

That was pretty much the last thing Bucky had expected, and the parasite seemed equally surprised. Not even Steve had acknowledged the parasite to the point of talking to it, let alone by name.

As soon as the parasite got over the shock, it began to _purr_. Bucky had never thought it capable of that, and had no idea how to react. Tony had just made a ruthless HYDRA assassin _purr_.

"Uh... he says hi back," Bucky replied lamely, even if that was the understatement of the century. The parasite was _thrilled_ to be properly addressed by someone — it didn't even protest against the nickname.

Tony nodded before leaning back in his seat. Neither of them said anything, but Tony was studying Bucky's face as if he was seeing it for the first time. In a way he was, Bucky realized, since Tony hadn't known much about him before this. Not to mention that Bucky's hair wasn't in the way this time, save for the shorter strands that had escaped from the bun at the back of his head.

"I never thought I'd find myself opposite a hero from the Great War," Tony said suddenly, a tiny smile beginning to form on his lips. "The infamous Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, even."

Bucky blinked. He knew his name had been in his file, but Tony said it as if it meant something. The information HYDRA had on Bucky was limited to what had been on his ID chip — name, date of birth, service number, blood type, home planet — since HYDRA had no reason to learn more about a soldier they were going to replace anyway. They had focused on the Winter Soldier and everything that had occurred after the assimilation process.

"You've heard of me?"

Tony scoffed. "Anyone who has heard of Steve Rogers — which is _everyone_ — has heard of James Barnes. Your _face_ isn't as known, but your name is in the history books, Buckling. Most people assume you died, or were captured and assimilated at the end of the war."

"Well, they weren't wrong." The words slipped out before Bucky could stop them, but Tony seemed to appreciate the sarcasm.

"Only they _were_ wrong," Tony argued, his tone gentler than Bucky had expected, "because you're not entirely lost, are you?"

Bucky looked down, swallowing thickly. "Perhaps it would have been better if I were."

There was a soft sound when Tony shifted, Bucky glancing up just enough to see him pull the memory drive from his pocket.

"This says otherwise." Tony sounded determined. "I didn't read it all, obviously, because that would take me weeks, but the things the Alliance could do with this? They might be able to eradicate HYDRA completely — or at the very least flush out the spies in their own ranks."

Bucky looked up, his stomach churning. "You saw?"

Tony nodded, his expression grave. "I understand why you're in such a hurry."

After having seen the list — a frighteningly long list — of HYDRA plants within the Alliance and SHIELD, it had finally dawned on Bucky how serious the situation was. He needed to get back, not only because he couldn't take the pressure anymore, but because Steve was in danger — everyone was.

For years HYDRA had been slowly infiltrating the Alliance and SHIELD, placing their own agents in strategic positions to give them as much power and influence as possible. No one expected a threat from within, and especially not from an army that had supposedly been defeated thirty-eight years ago. HYDRA's spies were the reason Bucky had to hand over the information personally, because sending it digitally was too big of a risk.

Tony rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful. He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, slowly turning the memory drive over, again and again. It seemed like an unconscious gesture, as if Tony just wanted something to do with his hands.

There was another silence, but this one felt less oppressive.

"I wasn't born until three years after the war ended, but my old man was in it." Tony looked lost in thought. "He was a scientist, so he didn't actually fight any battles, but he was neck-deep in the war effort all the same. He worked on Project Rebirth."

Bucky wasn't sure what to reply. He knew of Project Rebirth — of course he did — but he had no idea where Tony was heading with this.

"He wouldn't shut up about Steve Rogers, the greatest soldier alive, telling story after story, as soon I was old enough. Not that he actually knew Rogers — probably didn't exchange more than five words with the man — but my dad was so proud, because he'd helped _create_ him." There was barely hidden contempt in Tony's voice. "It didn't even matter that Steve Rogers is, to this day, the only one they've found who's compatible with the serum."

Tony looked up, catching Bucky's gaze. "Did you know the Rebirth Serum is based on the HYDRA virus?"

It suddenly got very difficult to breathe — Bucky hadn't known that. Tony's smile was wry.

"Yeah, figured you wouldn't. I'm not even sure if Commander Rogers knows. I just happened to find my dad's old notes and..." Tony shrugged. "I guess they figured that injecting something into a soldier and having them come out stronger, faster, and just _better_ , was a very appealing idea. So they took the virus, experimented on it, reinvented it, erasing that whole brainwashing aspect, and lo and behold — a super soldier. Well, as long as you're one of the zero point five percent of people who are actually compatible with it, otherwise you die in agony."

Suddenly, Bucky wanted nothing more than to have Steve within his physical reach, even if he wasn't entirely sure if it was to hug him or strangle him. Steve had _volunteered_ to be injected with the serum, despite the frighteningly high odds of it killing him.

"That's why they're so similar," Tony continued, smiling faintly. "The strength, reflexes, healing factor, slower aging, and so on and so forth. It might look like you and him are on different ends of the spectrum, but you're more alike than you think — he just happened to get the better cocktail in his vaccination shot."

Breathing was still more difficult than it should have been, but Bucky was able to swallow down the burn of nausea, focusing on what Tony was saying.

"You're tryin' to make me feel better." It came out sounding more accusing than planned, but Tony didn't seem to take offense.

"I'm stating facts," Tony corrected, clearly ignoring Bucky's clenched jaw and tense shoulders. "Just like I can state the fact that some scientists believe that the less compatible you are with the Rebirth Serum, the _more_ compatible you are with the HYDRA virus."

Bucky winced. After Steve had survived the procedure entire platoons had been tested, to see whether they were compatible enough to be injected as well. None were, the majority landing closer to the middle of the scale — Bucky even lower than that.

"What's your score?" Tony asked. "I know you must have gone through the testing. You were enlisted during the big Rebirth craze."

"Twenty-three percent," Bucky bit out.

"Ouch." Tony grimaced. "But, look at it from the bright side — had you been less compatible with the HYDRA virus, you'd be one of their mindless puppets. Most us land around fifty percent compatibility with the Rebirth Serum, and the majority who are assimilated become empty shells, right? Only you didn't. That might be because you tested so low for the Rebirth Serum. So maybe, just maybe, it's actually a _good_ thing not to be as perfect and virtuous as Steve Rogers."

"This is not makin' me feel better," Bucky muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. His left arm clicked ominously, completing the movement with a slight delay. Tony eyed it curiously, but Bucky knew he couldn't see much when the arm was clothed.

"What I'm saying is that everything isn't lost," Tony picked up. Bucky raised an eyebrow and Tony's gaze softened. "You avoided the fate most fear, Bucky. I can't imagine what you went through — just reading the records made me want to throw up — but you're still here. You're still _you_. I mean, your roommate Winter might be a violent mass murderer and all that, but you're not."

"You don't know that," Bucky said, voice hoarse.

"I _do_ know that, because mass murderers don't behave the way you do. They don't have the patience to be in my presence without trying to kill me, first of all, and they certainly don't go out buying socks for virtual strangers just because they can't clothe themselves." Tony shrugged, as if trying to appear nonchalant, but there was far too much warmth and gentleness in his eyes for it to be convincing. "And they don't have panic attacks or nightmares that leave them screaming."

A sharp pang of alarm in Bucky's chest — Tony shouldn't know about the nightmares. Bucky frowned, shooting Tony an accusatory glare.

"Blame JARVIS, not me." Tony held up his hands. "He monitors... _monitored_ everyone inside the workshop. He could tell by your heart rate and breathing that you're suffering from a pretty bad case of PTSD." Tony smiled — it was small and tired, but a smile none the less. "Mass murderers don't do that. You don't enjoy killing people, Bucky."

It was difficult to know what to reply to that; Bucky hadn't expected Tony to be so understanding. He closed his eyes. The fact that Tony wasn't trying to kill him was a small miracle in itself, but that he sat down and tried to understand what Bucky had gone through? Bucky couldn't even put that into words. He was so grateful he felt like collapsing from relief, even if he knew that there was still a lot to be said — things he should explain.

"It was Steve." Bucky cleared his throat, chasing away some of the hoarseness. "He's my brother in everything but blood. He found us, and I knew the parasite would hurt him."

"So you fought."

Bucky nodded, slowly opening his eyes. "I don't know how, but I regained control." He looked at Tony, feeling tired and hollowed out, but strangely lighter, too. "That's the worst fear of any soldier — to be assimilated and forced to kill your own family and loved ones."

Tony remained silent, waiting for Bucky to keep going.

"When I served, I knew several soldiers who had poison capsules in their teeth." He took a deep breath. "I guess they figured it was better to commit suicide than be injected with the virus." Bucky leaned forward, mirroring Tony's pose. He shouldn't be moving towards Tony, but he couldn't help it; Bucky was almost close enough to feel the warmth of his skin. "The higher-ups didn't object. They must have understood that having a choice made the soldiers feel safer — their life was their own, until the very end."

Bucky looked down at his hands, one metal and one flesh. Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to be one of them — instead of becoming the Winter Soldier, he could have killed himself before the procedure even began.

The parasite, having remained surprisingly quiet during the majority of the conversation, hissed.

"I take it you weren't one of the soldiers with that particular fashion accessory?" Tony asked.

"No." Bucky shook his head. "The thought scared me more than anything. Even if I could go back, I'm not sure I would change my mind."

"Really?" Tony sounded surprised. Bucky couldn't blame him, he supposed.

His smile was faint — barely there. He nodded towards the drive Tony was still holding. "Like you said, that wouldn't be here if I wasn't. There would be less pain and no parasite, sure, but leaving Steve..." Bucky shook his head. "I guess I'm just not ready to die yet."

Bucky felt a nudge against his leg, looking up when he realized Tony was poking him with his toe, trying to catch his attention. There was a sad tinge to Tony's smile, but at least he was smiling.

"I wouldn't change my decision, either."

"What decision?" Bucky asked, not hiding his confusion.

"If I had known what I know now, I would still have chosen to blow up the workshop." Tony's words were so sincere — as if no other option was even worth considering.

A shiver ran through Bucky when one of Tony's hands unfurled, his fingertips brushing against Bucky's knuckles. It was the softest of touches — barely even there — but it made his heart race all the same, his throat closing up from the unmistakable gentleness.

"I would still have chosen you." There was not a single trace of doubt in Tony's voice.

Somehow, Bucky remembered how to breathe, even if it trembled. He could do nothing but stare at Tony, speechless. What could he possibly say to that? He wanted to argue that he was a monster, but Tony had read his file — he probably knew the names of most of the people Bucky and the parasite had killed. Despite all that, he still thought Bucky was worth saving.

"You didn't choose this, Bucky, and it's not your fault."

Steve had said the same, and Bucky found that having one more do so loosened the knot in his chest, ever so slightly. He cleared his throat, looking down at his tightly clenched hands, but couldn't find the words to reply — he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say.

Tony let the silence linger a couple of seconds before he nudged Bucky's hands with the memory drive.

"You're handing this over to the Alliance, right? To Commander Rogers?"

Bucky was grateful for the change in subject and accepted the memory drive, trying not to notice how their fingers brushed. The atmosphere was far too raw and intimate, and it was a relief to be able to focus on something more practical. So he nodded, staring down at the reward of his hard work.

"In about two weeks." He glanced up. "Unless I get delayed droppin' you off."

"Dropping me off where?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

"The closest safe harbor," Bucky replied, surprised by the frown that earned him.

"Nope. Not going to happen."

"What?"

Tony shook his head. "You can't drop this kind of bomb on me and then assume I'm just going to turn tail and run."

Bucky didn't even think before grabbing Tony's fingers with his metal hand, as if the physical contact would add weight to his words. "No, Tony. You can't come with me. I'm not putting you in danger — this isn't your fight."

Tony shot him an unimpressed look that made Bucky want to squirm — and had the parasite cackling from glee.

"Really? That's your argument?" Tony drawled. "There's an army trying to enslave the entire galaxy and you think it's not my fight? In case you missed it, I happen to be living in said galaxy — they'll bring the fight to me sooner or later."

"Not if I can stop them before they get that far," Bucky persisted. He let go of Tony's hand, mostly because he didn't trust his arm not to seize up and squeeze too hard; the last thing Bucky wanted was to accidentally hurt Tony.

"As much as I appreciate the protectiveness, dearest, I'm not the frail little flower you seem to think I am," Tony shot back, the wryness giving way for determination. Bucky knew that was a bad sign since Tony was about as stubborn as he was — they'd be at this all night.

"You're an unaugmented human and a civilian, Tony."

"I wonder where the world would be if Steve Rogers had listened to you when you said that to him."

Bucky shut his mouth with a clack.

"You did, didn't you?" Tony asked. The words could easily have been mocking, but he seemed to know better than to tease Bucky about this. "I saw my dad's notes — including the photo of Rogers before the procedure. A strong breeze might have broken him in half, _and_ he was a civilian."

That shouldn't make Bucky feel guilty, but it did. Tony was right, at least partially. Bucky _would_ have tried to protect Steve by telling him not to go through with the procedure. He didn't get the chance, what with being shipped out already, but he would no doubt have tried, had he been there.

But if Steve hadn't volunteered, the Alliance might have lost the war.

Bucky had asked Steve what had happened after he got captured, since no one had informed him or the parasite about the war's conclusion. Steve had pointed him to the official records, where Bucky had found out that Steve had apparently been the one to turn the war in the Alliance's favor — his actions had helped defeat General Schmidt and bring about the end of the war. If not for Steve's bravery — the tiny, sickly Steve who volunteered for a dangerous experiment that might very well have killed him — they could all be HYDRA by now.

Arguing with Tony was still a losing game, apparently.

"I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself." Tony sounded exasperated, but not angry. "Here, look."

Bucky obeyed, frowning in confusion when Tony pulled up his t-shirt to bare his chest, showing smooth, tantalizing skin. Not that Bucky was complaining, but it didn't seem to have a whole lot to do with their conversation — until Tony started peeling off what Bucky realized had to be cloaking film. He'd seen some people use it to hide scars and sometimes even alter their appearance, but the technology was expensive and few had access to it.

There was a pale blue light, growing brighter the more of the film Tony pulled away. There, at the center of his chest, was a glowing circle, a low, steady hum coming from what Bucky realized had to be a machine of some kind. He'd heard the sound before but dismissed it as barely discernible static from the earpiece Tony had always been wearing.

He'd had no idea that Tony was hiding something — let alone something like _that_.

Tony balled up the cloaking film, tossing it carelessly next to the gun. He gave Bucky an unreadable look before tapping his finger against the glowing circle in his chest. It looked like it must have been embedded in his ribcage, several scars snaking around the outer edge. Bucky wondered how deep it went, feeling a stab in his own chest in sympathy.

"This is an arc reactor. It's keeping me alive."

Bucky flinched, staring at Tony, who gave him a crooked but tired smile. He let his t-shirt fall back down, the glowing circle was still visible through the fabric.

"I won't bore you with the details, but I ran into some trouble, was held captive for three months, and then escaped said trouble — with this as a souvenir." Tony drummed his fingers against the center of the arc reactor. "Long story short, take it out and I die within minutes."

That explained why Tony had reached for his chest when Bucky had surprised him back at the workshop — he instinctively tried to protect his biggest weakness. Bucky stared at the reactor, then up at Tony's face.

"If you're tryin' to make me _less_ worried, you're failin' spectacularly," he informed, fighting an urge to reach out and cup his hands over the soft, blue glow, as if shielding it from view meant that no one could ever get to it.

"My point is," Tony carried on, almost as if he hadn't heard, "I've been in bad situations before, but come out unharmed. Well, more or less. Technically dying, but it could have been worse, right? I mean, I—"

Bucky muffled the rest of the sentence by placing his hand over Tony's mouth. That earned him a disgruntled glare, but at least Tony knew better than to lick Bucky's palm — he seemed like the kind of person who would.

Tony's beard was tickling Bucky's skin, but he tried to ignore that.

"I don't want you to get hurt." He wasn't sure what else to say to make Tony understand why he didn't want him involved in all of this. Staying with Bucky was far too dangerous.

Tony caught Bucky's hand when he lowered it, warm, calloused fingers entwining with his. The way Tony did that — casually and without hesitation, as if touching Bucky was nothing out of the ordinary — caused a warm, excited burn in Bucky's gut.

"I'm beginning to see that but, unfortunately for you, that won't stop me. I'm notoriously bad at knowing my limits. Also, there isn't much else for me to do right now." Tony shrugged. "I fix things. Let me help fix this."

"Tony, it's not that simple," Bucky tried, but he knew he was losing. First of all, he didn't actually _want_ Tony to leave — Bucky was far too fond of him and having company was a blessing, even if he hadn't thought it would be. Second, he probably wouldn't be able to get Tony off the ship without using force, and he really wasn't prepared to do that.

"It really is that simple." Tony gave his fingers a squeeze. "I'm staying."

The statement hung in the air for a couple of seconds, the tension palpable, until Bucky sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump in defeat. The parasite was annoyingly pleased.

"Fine," Bucky muttered, rubbing his free hand over his eyes. "But don't think I'm happy 'bout it."

"You don't have to be."

Bucky stared at the floor for a second, gathering his courage before looking up and meeting Tony's gaze — it was warm and smiling again, making Bucky's breath catch.

"I don't want you to lose more than you already have. JARVIS — your _home_ — is already more than you should have to give."

The carefree look on Tony's face faltered for a second. He didn't quite manage to push the flicker of pain aside, but he made an admirable attempt.

He still hadn't let go of Bucky's hand.

"I distinctly remember saying I didn't regret making that decision. I'm positive I said that. Did you miss that part of the conversation? Should I repeat it for you?"

Hearing Tony fall back into his signature way of speaking, without it being forced or passive-aggressive, was such a relief that Bucky couldn't help chuckling. He took a deep breath before shaking his head — Tony didn't have to repeat himself. Bucky remembered. He was pretty certain that he would never forget those words, as a matter of fact.

" _But_ , if you _do_ want to make it up to me," Tony continued pointedly, "we can start with a change of clothes. Showers only do so much when your clothes are dirty."

Bucky blinked, looking at the t-shirt and pants Tony was wearing, realizing that they were the same as when they'd left Knowhere. Of course they were — Tony hadn't had time to grab anything of his except the bots, JARVIS's data drive, and those two crates. He didn't have any clothes to change into. Bucky should have thought of that.

"You can borrow mine," he offered immediately. He knew they might not fit perfectly, but they were the only clothes he had on the ship, and no doubt better than the alternative.

Tony rewarded him with one of those bright smiles of his, making Bucky's chest ache from fondness.

"I suggest we get on that right away. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've started to smell."

"I was tryin' to be polite and not mention it," Bucky replied with a teasing smirk.

He burst out laughing when Tony punched Bucky's shoulder in revenge and made the mistake of aiming for the left one rather than the right. Judging by the metallic _thunk_ , the playful jab hurt Tony a lot more than it hurt Bucky. That shouldn't have been funny, but the combination of the indignant look on Tony's face, as well as the relief of having Tony's acceptance over the whole mess with HYDRA, made Bucky feel almost giddy.

He couldn't help laughing.

Tony shot him a betrayed look, but it didn't hide the delight underneath, a smile tugging at his lips. He looked at Bucky as if he couldn't tear his gaze away — awed and maybe even a little breathless — making Bucky realize that he probably hadn't laughed in Tony's presence before. Then again, that wasn't so surprising considering that Bucky couldn't remember last time he had laughed, period.

That thought was sobering, but not enough to ruin his good mood.

"Come on," Bucky rose from his seat, tugging on Tony's hand to make him do the same. "Let's find you something to wear."

Bucky still wasn't sure what to make of everything he had learned — about Tony's arc reactor, HYDRA, and the Rebirth Serum — but for now he chose to focus on simpler tasks, like getting Tony a change of clothes.

"Am I to be your kept man? I feel like I should protest on behalf of my pride, but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it once or twice. Well, in general terms, since you're a rather new addition to that particular fantasy, but I'm flexible." Sometimes, Tony seemed to be speaking in a language of his own making, and it was difficult to figure out whether he was serious or just trying to confuse those listening. He was following Bucky through the ship, half a step behind, making no attempt to disconnect their hands. "What does being your kept man entail, Buckling?"

"Well, it involves wearin' both socks and shoes," Bucky replied dryly.

"You tyrant," Tony accused, but his tone was playful.

"It's only 'cause I care, sweetheart," Bucky drawled.

There was a pause, long enough to make Bucky fear that he had crossed the line, but then he felt Tony squeeze his hand.

"Then by all means, carry on."

Bucky found himself smiling, returning the squeeze. "Don't mind if I do."

"I look ridiculous."

Bucky looked up at the sound of Tony's voice, straightening where he sat on the edge of his bed, the memory drive still in his hand. He'd heard Tony coming this time, but for some reason the parasite hadn't reacted. It was either getting lax about detecting threats or had stopped counting Tony as one altogether.

Tony was standing in Bucky's doorway, looking down at himself with a critical eye. Bucky followed his gaze, not knowing whether to laugh or swallow tightly.

He ended up doing the latter.

The pants Tony had borrowed were too long, to the point where he was more or less stepping on them, and while he had pushed the sleeves of the sweater up to his elbows, it was still obvious how ill-fitting it was. Tony wasn't a small man, but he clearly wasn't big enough to fill out clothes meant for Bucky. The arc reactor was shining through the light grey shirt, its glow muted but still strangely beautiful.

Tony was, without exaggeration, absolutely _adorable_.

Bucky wasn't sure how to react but wasn't the least bit surprised by the surge of protective fondness he felt. The _possessiveness_ that came a second later threw him, though, especially when he realized it wasn't his — it was the parasite's. It was alarmingly pleased to see Tony in their clothes. Bucky was not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole and quickly shoved the parasite aside.

"Come on, I'll fold the pants up for ya," Bucky offered, motioning for Tony to come closer with one hand and pocketing the memory drive with the other. It was only when Tony stepped into his cabin that Bucky realized that Tony was, well, _inside his cabin_. There wasn't much space for them to share — which could get really awkward, really fast. Bucky had never let anyone else set foot in there before.

He tried not to let that show, pretending it was no big deal when he patted his thigh to show where Tony should place his foot — his still very much bare foot. Tony obeyed and Bucky started folding the pants with practiced movements. His left arm complained, clicking and whirring more than usual, but he ignored it.

"Let me guess? You used to do this for tiny Steve?" Tony sounded amused.

Bucky felt himself smile, nodding. "He had a hard time findin' clothes that fit, especially in the men's section."

"You make me feel really bad for the kid." Tony paused. "Then again, I guess he has the opposite problem now."

A chuckle escaped Bucky before he motioned for Tony to change foot. "Probably, yeah. Also, he's older than you."

"That's true. Over sixty, right?" Tony tilted his head to the side. "So are you, in fact."

"Sixty-six," Bucky confirmed, not raising his gaze to meet Tony's curious look.

"Well, you age with grace, I'll give you that," Tony said.

Even if they both knew it was due to the HYDRA virus rather than good genes, Bucky couldn't hold back an amused snort. Instead of replying he finished folding the hem of Tony's pants. Once he had, Bucky took a gentle hold of Tony's ankle, giving him a reprimanding look.

"Shoes, Tony?"

Tony rolled his eyes, tugging his foot free. "What is it with you and shoes?"

"What is it with you and not wearing them?"

"I was planning to! But the pants got in the way," Tony defended, not unreasonably, Bucky supposed. "But nothing's stopping me now, so I'll head back to my cabin and put on the lovely spare boots you supplied me with. Happy?"

"For now," Bucky replied with a serious nod.

Tony snorted and walked towards the door.

"Hey, Tony," Bucky called, just as Tony was about to leave the cabin. He halted, looking back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, as if expecting to be chastised again. Bucky made sure to smile, even if he knew it was trembling around the edges. "Thank you. For not hating me."

Immediately, Tony's posture softened — as did his gaze. His hand was resting against the door frame, the arc reactor casting a soft glow that only seemed to make Tony's smile warmer.

"I'm not sure if I would be able to hate you, even if you tried." Tony seemed surprised by his own words. He paused for a second — looking slightly embarrassed — before he must have remembered where he was heading and offered a short, decisive nod before ducking out of view.

Bucky let him leave, not trusting himself not to do something stupid — like pull Tony in for a kiss. Now was clearly not the time. In all likelihood, there would never be a good time for something like that. Tony didn't have much reason to want someone like Bucky. The flirting back in the workshop had been before Tony found out how messed up Bucky was — and just how many people he had killed.

Who would want a broken HYDRA soldier with hundreds of kills to his name and a psychotic parasite latching on to him?

No, Bucky knew better than to disturb the frail peace between them by acting on his attraction. If anything, they needed time to think and deal with all the new information both of them had gained.

He couldn't deny, though, that he had a vague hope of forging some kind of friendship. If Tony was serious about staying, Bucky had about two weeks to fix things between them — maybe longer, depending on what happened after Steve got the memory drive.

The thought was entirely foreign to Bucky; he had never even considered what would happen _after_ his mission was completed. Sometimes, he forgot there was such a thing. He knew better than to hope for too much, but he felt cautiously optimistic that Tony wouldn't shut him out of his life as soon as this was over.

Maybe, just maybe, there would be something for Bucky at the end of this — maybe Tony wouldn't mind sticking around for a while. Bucky didn't even care if it was only platonic, because he would settle for whatever Tony was willing to give him.

The flicker of anticipation and joy was incredibly fragile, but it was more than Bucky had had for years, and he embraced it wholeheartedly.

He'd almost forgotten what hope felt like.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who loves world building? I love world building! I just can't help it, okay? There are so many possibilities! So many details to add! I HAVE SO MUCH.
> 
> And I am definitely taking the opportunity to have Tony walk around in Bucky's clothes for the majority of this fic. Just watch me, my lovelies, just watch me.
> 
> If you want to come and say hi, you can find my Tumblr [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/s)!


	7. The Journey

 

* * *

 

The next couple of days of their journey were a lot more enjoyable than the first three. Bucky and Tony stopped avoiding each other, even if they might still be skirting the heavier subjects in favor of enjoying each other's company. Neither of them seemed to want to disturb the newly settled peace between them.

Bucky didn't mind, to be honest, partly because he wasn't sure what more to say, but also because he was much more interested in just spending time with Tony. Despite what he now knew, Tony didn't treat Bucky any differently. He even kept up the flirting, moving well into Bucky's personal space at any given time, testing the limits of Bucky's self-control. He appreciated the fact that Tony behaved as if nothing had changed, but it was getting more and more difficult for Bucky not to respond in kind. He had to remind himself daily that it was just how Tony was — it didn't mean anything.

Tony didn't want someone like him. Bucky didn't deserve him. And that was fine — Bucky was happy as long as he got to be Tony's friend. He was grateful that Tony didn't hate him.

Fact was, Tony seemed to have accepted the news about HYDRA and the parasite with alarming ease. There were times when Tony gave Bucky thoughtful looks — after he caught a glimpse of the metal port on Bucky's neck or must have noticed that Bucky got distracted by the parasite — but he never said anything. He didn't seem afraid, either, even if he probably should have been. It was comforting but also worrying, since Tony showed a disturbing lack of self-preservation instincts. Bucky's gratefulness won out, though, since he would have been devastated if Tony had stopped talking to him entirely.

In an attempt to show his gratitude, Bucky let Tony tinker with the ship, but only after a stern conversation about not making any bigger adjustments without Bucky's expressed approval. The tools available on the ship weren't quite as good as the ones Tony had had in his workshop, but he seemed happy either way, eager for something to do.

Bucky reveled in Tony's company. The silence that had hung over them both the past couple of days was finally lifted by Tony's usual chatter, and Bucky couldn't help lingering close, just to give him someone to talk at. Bucky rarely replied, but every single time Tony looked up — as if to check if he was still listening — Bucky made sure to be there. More often than not, Tony would respond with a delighted, shy little smile before turning back to whatever he was working on at the time.

Tony was clearly not used to having someone's full attention for such a long period of time, but seemed to be enjoying it now that he did.

He insisted on several lessons where he showed Bucky the improvements he had made on the ship, which usually derailed into arguments about whether or not they had been necessary in the first place. Bucky didn't think so, but Tony was obsessed with innovation in a way that was quite endearing but also frustrating, since it was Bucky's ship he insisted on changing. She had worked just fine before Tony got his hands on her and probably would have even without his input.

Still, Bucky couldn't deny that he enjoyed those moments immensely, sitting side by side on the bridge, going through the new interface and programs. The fond bickering was an added bonus and Bucky found himself smiling more and more. Having Tony on the ship — despite the circumstances that had brought him there — quickly became familiar and comforting. Having company made Bucky less anxious, and even though the nightmares didn't stop completely, there were fewer and fewer that made him wake up screaming.

They both knew they weren't safe yet. They might have escaped the attack on the workshop, but HYDRA was probably still in pursuit. Bucky and Tony had a head start, but the question was how long that would last. They could keep a steady course now that they didn't need the detour to drop off Tony, but there were still several days of travel ahead of them before they reached the rendezvous point.

A lot could happen in those days.

Bucky forced himself to remain somewhat optimistic, if only because he didn't want to think about what would happen to Tony if HYDRA caught them.

The parasite was behaving, strangely enough, too caught up in being innocently fascinated by Tony to give Bucky any grief over who was in control. Bucky could understand the parasite's curiosity since it had only ever known commanding officers, handlers, and other soldiers before — Tony was as far from that as you could possibly get. As long as the parasite's interest remained harmless, Bucky figured he could let it be.

Surprisingly, Tony didn't ask for the coordinates or exactly where they were heading. He simply accepted that Bucky was the one setting their course and focused on repairing everything in sight instead. More than once Bucky had to remind him to eat and sleep, which made it all too clear that Tony was trying to distract himself with work.

He never talked about JARVIS.

There were times when he almost talked _to_ JARVIS, though. Bucky could see Tony open his mouth, as if to speak, before he caught himself and shut it again, quickly continuing with what he was doing. Bucky couldn't even imagine what it had to be like to have lost someone who had always been there, no matter the hour, and always replied whenever Tony wanted attention. Tony was, understandably, having a hard time adjusting. Bucky wasn't sure what he could do to help, and mostly just made sure Tony didn't collapse from exhaustion.

Despite some grumbles, Tony didn't protest all that loudly whenever Bucky sent him off to bed. There was no telling if Tony actually slept while shut away in his cabin, but Bucky wouldn't have been able to help with that even if he wanted to. So he did what he could, keeping Tony relatively happy, well-fed, and clothed, even if the latter involved digging through his own depressingly small wardrobe for things that Tony could wear.

Most of Bucky's clothes were meant for missions, given to him by HYDRA — tough leather and thick, armored uniforms — and those that weren't didn't always fit Bucky either. Before he left to infiltrate HYDRA, Steve had let him have a handful of standard issue garments that the Alliance gave their soldiers, but neither of them had bothered about the sizes beyond making sure they weren't going to be too small. The result was that some of them were too big, even for Bucky, which looked _hilarious_ on Tony. Still, the loose shirts and soft pants were better than Bucky's uniforms. There was a big, grey hooded sweater that Tony was particularly fond of, even if the arms were far too long and it reached him almost mid-thigh.

Then again, Bucky's ship was colder than Tony's workshop had been, so it was understandable if he wanted to stay warm by any means necessary. If that was the case it made no sense why Tony still forgot to wear socks and shoes some days, but he always put them on after Bucky reminded him.

To be entirely honest, Bucky didn't mind seeing Tony shuffle around in his oversized clothes, simply for how adorable he looked, but Bucky refused to be as happy about it as the parasite was. It enjoyed this far too much — something Bucky was never, ever going to tell Tony about.

Unlike Bucky, who still felt a need to hide the injection port under his hair sometimes, Tony seemed surprisingly unbothered by the arc reactor, especially considering the effort he had gone through to hide it before. He didn't try to cover it up now, though, the bright circle visible under the clothes he wore. Bucky wasn't stupid enough to think everything was fine, but Tony didn't look uncomfortable and that was really all that mattered.

The glow was strangely soothing. It drew Bucky's gaze more than once, and even if he was admittedly afraid to touch the reactor in fear of breaking it somehow, he liked knowing it was there.

The reactor made it look like Tony was carrying a warm, humming star in his chest — as if the light came from somewhere deep within him, making him shine so incredibly bright.

Tony might never tell Bucky the full story behind the reactor, but he found himself in awe of what little he _did_ know. Bucky could relate to being captured and emerging on the other end, altered and with more baggage than anyone should have to carry. He felt hope when watching Tony, because while he might not be completely recovered, Tony had fought through the bad and was still standing — the same as Bucky.

They obviously had a lot more in common than Bucky had first thought.

Each new day Bucky got to spend with Tony helped calm him, making him uncoil slowly but surely. Bucky knew it was too early to let his guard down — HYDRA might still find them — but he couldn't help wanting to enjoy what he had. The way Tony smiled at him, the playful nudges and good-natured teasing, and the sizzle of attraction Bucky felt, even if he knew that would never amount to anything.

For a couple of days, Bucky allowed himself to just exist in the moment. The ship was on autopilot, taking them where they needed to go, so besides from regular checks to make sure everything was in working order he could spend the majority of his time with Tony. They were more or less isolated, with only each other for company, but Bucky didn't feel as trapped as he had expected. The close quarters reminded him of his years serving, both before and after Steve had joined him, and it was undeniably comforting. There was a completely different undertone to what Bucky felt for Tony as opposed to Steve, of course, but the feeling of companionship was more or less the same.

Bucky hadn't realized just how lonely he had been until he had someone to spend his time with again. He had a feeling Tony felt the same. It was as if both of them just couldn't get enough of the closeness, inexplicably drawn to each other. When they slept was one of the few times when they weren't together, and even then Bucky could hear Tony, if he focused. More than once Bucky fell asleep to the sound of Tony moving around in his cabin, or the soothing rhythm of his breaths.

The peace might not last, but for the time being Bucky could settle for whatever he got. The mere knowledge that he could _feel_ was enough to keep him happy. Sometimes he worried that his time with HYDRA would have made him incapable of that — that they would have wiped his humanity from him, leaving him with nothing but anger, shame, and guilt. But Tony made him feel an array of different things, most of them good. There were hints of exasperation and worry, sure, but more often than not, being with Tony just made Bucky feel warm and safe.

For the first time in many, many years, he was genuinely happy.

Whenever he couldn't sleep, Bucky liked to watch the stars. The endless expanse of black dotted with the bright, shining stars was strangely soothing to him. He knew that some would look at space and feel small and insignificant, but he felt calmed. Bucky liked the thought of being an individual — making a difference and people taking notice — but he understood the importance of being a smaller part of something much bigger, too.

That was why he had volunteered to return to HYDRA, even if it was the last thing he wanted so soon after regaining control of himself. His life was a small price to pay, if it saved HYDRA's future victims. Getting the memory drive back to Steve was partly about redemption, yes, but it was also the right thing to do — something _only_ Bucky could do.

The stars, beautiful and untouchable, made his actions feel less like a sacrifice and more like a purpose. Like the past thirty-eight years of fear and agony might be worth it, because Bucky was a part of something much greater than he could possibly comprehend. He wasn't the one with the plans or visions of the future, but he could help take them there.

So he watched the stars, sitting in his chair on the bridge with his folded arms resting against the main console. The ship was humming around him, the familiar noises making him relax, his breathing calm and even. The parasite was blissfully quiet at the back of his mind, sleeping as far as Bucky could tell.

They had been travelling for a little over a week by then and were eight days away from the rendezvous point, according to Bucky's calculations. They'd probably miss the appointed time by a couple of hours, but not enough for Steve too worry, hopefully. Everything had been going smoothly so far. The ship was in better shape than she'd been in years thanks to Tony's continued tinkering, and they had more than enough supplies to last them the final stretch of their journey.

Bucky wasn't sure exactly what time it was, since he hadn't bothered to look at a clock when the nightmare woke him. He didn't feel as exhausted as he sometimes did after being startled awake, but he couldn't find the peace of mind to go back to sleep either. So he came to the bridge, like he so often did, and found himself looking out at the stars.

There was the faint sound of footsteps coming his way, but since Bucky knew who they belonged to he remained loose and relaxed. He didn't ask himself why Tony was up — the man's sleeping habits might in fact be worse than Bucky's — but found himself smiling.

The amount of time they spent apart was decreasing rapidly.

Tony didn't actually say anything when he arrived, sliding into the left-hand seat under a comfortable silence. He was dressed in soft pants and the gigantic hoodie, his feet bare. Bucky almost wanted to protest, but he guessed he couldn't say anything if Tony had, in fact, been sleeping before coming. His hair sure looked like he'd given it a try, pointing every which way.

The arc reactor was humming away in Tony's chest, the glow barely noticeable through the thicker fabric of the sweater he was wearing. Bucky still knew it was there and his smile grew softer when he realized that he might in fact have a star right here, just as bright and lovely as those on the other side of the glass.

"You come here often, gorgeous?" Tony asked, throwing Bucky a teasing grin.

Bucky let out a soft snort. "It's my ship, so yeah — I do."

Tony hummed. "That's actually quite worrying, considering the late hour."

The rapid change in tone wasn't unusual for Tony, but it caught Bucky off guard this time, since they usually avoided heavier subjects. Bucky swallowed, glancing in Tony's direction. He was also gazing out at the stars but looked significantly more tired than Bucky.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, keeping his voice low, as if speaking too loudly would break the frailty of the moment.

Tony sat quiet for a couple of seconds before letting out a slow breath. "I'm fine. Well, as fine as one might expect." He leaned his head back, turning it to look at Bucky. "But I'm not sure if the same can be said for those waiting for me at home."

Bucky felt a clench of dread. Being somewhat of a coward, Bucky had chosen not to speculate as to whether or not Tony had a family or a lover somewhere out there. There had been none in Knowhere, according to JARVIS, but Tony had the entire universe to choose from. He was both extremely handsome and rich, so odds were that he was taken.

Bucky knew he was incredibly selfish for feeling jealous of these hypothetical people, but he couldn't help it. He was on borrowed time and he had always known that. Tony wasn't there because he _chose_ to be; he'd been pulled into this mess against his will, unfair circumstances forcing him to leave his workshop. Tony's decision to stay seemed to be founded in his innate need to fix and improve things — not even the universe was too big a task, apparently — and not something personal.

Tony didn't stay for _Bucky's_ sake.

"I mean," Tony continued, "I was able to send off a transmission before the workshop blew up, but I'm pretty sure 'HYDRA is attacking, talk to you later' isn't exactly a comfort." Tony's fingers were playing with the hem of the hoodie, making him look painfully young and lost.

That explained why Tony had insisted staying as long as possible back at the workshop. Bucky didn't envy whoever Tony had contacted. He couldn't even imagine what it had to be like to receive a message like that from someone you cared about, not knowing what had happened and being unable to help. The fact that HYDRA was involved made it ten times worse, since there was always a risk of getting captured and assimilated.

So much agony, all because of Bucky.

He didn't manage to do more than open his mouth before Tony was holding up a hand, giving him a stern glare. "I swear, if you apologize one more time I'm going to change the language settings on the ship's computer and not tell you how to turn it back."

There was a slight pause before Bucky closed his mouth, letting out a strained laugh. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

"For a trained assassin you're pretty easy to read, yeah," Tony replied, but his tone was fond. "Thing is, I had to send them something. The other JARVIS — the one I have set up at home — would have noticed if his counterpart in Knowhere didn't respond. This way they know what happened." Tony paused, pursing his lips. "And I gave them the go-ahead to freeze my assets."

That was a failsafe that many had, Bucky knew — he had been one of them.

It hadn't taken long before people realized that they needed some kind of system in place to deal with a person's belongings, should they be assimilated. HYDRA had, on several occasions at the beginning of the Great War, managed to gain additional funding by infecting a person, then ordering them to hand over their possessions. Many had therefore signed agreements that all their assets should be seized the moment they were declared captured or MIA until it could be verified that they were still their own. If not, the person's possessions were divided according to their will.

Most of Bucky's things had gone to his siblings and Steve, but he didn't know how much of it they had kept — he hadn't owned much to begin with. Not like Tony, who was clearly pretty wealthy, even if Bucky didn't know exactly how rich he was. Freezing all assets was a reasonable precaution.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, his left arm giving off an audible crack when he straightened it.

"Does Winter sleep?"

The question came out of the blue but Bucky couldn't help smiling — it was so like Tony to blurt out random queries in the pursuit of knowledge.

"He does — more than I do, nowadays. I think he gets bored a lot."

"Is he asleep now?" Tony sounded so adorably curious that Bucky didn't even mind what they were discussing. Or maybe the parasite wasn't such a sore subject anymore, now that they had learned to tolerate each other.

Bucky nodded, looking at Tony. "He usually wakes when I do, but has an easier time falling back asleep after the nightmares." Probably because the parasite didn't feel regret. "Just after I first gained control he was on edge all the time, though, and slept only when I did."

"He didn't trust you back then," Tony said, his expression difficult to read. "But now he does."

That gave Bucky pause — he hadn't thought of it like that. Tony had a point, though. Four months ago, the parasite would never have kept on sleeping while Bucky was moving around, but now it apparently didn't feel threatened enough to have to stay awake. It willingly surrendered control to Bucky, trusting him not to hurt them.

Bucky was completely unprepared for the tickle of protectiveness he felt. He was supposed to hate the parasite, wasn't he? But hearing Tony refer to it as a he — a person with an actual name — made it difficult to keep a distance. Even more so when Bucky knew that this person was undeniably and painfully innocent. The parasite was bred for one purpose, and outside of that purpose knew almost nothing about the world he lived in. Winter only knew what HYDRA had told him, so unlike Bucky, he probably had no idea how bad some of the things he had done were — no one had ever taken the time to explain it to him.

Winter was perhaps even more of a victim than Bucky when it came down to it, because he had been kept in the dark and tortured just as badly, and never even been told why.

"If you keep that up you'll ruin it even more than you already have," Tony said, making Bucky blink in confusion. A pointed nod made him look down at his tightly clenched fist, the metal in his hand groaning in protest.

Bucky forced himself to relax, but he couldn't quite stretch out his fingers, wincing at the lash of pain. Tony let out a frustrated noise and turned his chair. He didn't try to touch, but Bucky could tell that he really wanted to — Bucky was wearing a t-shirt and showed more of the arm than he ever had in front of Tony.

"I know you're touchy about the arm — I read your file so I understand why — but will you please let me look at it?" Tony's voice was surprisingly soft, but still urgent. "It's _hurting_ you, and it doesn't have to. I know you might not trust me with—"

"I do."

Tony blinked, looking startled. Bucky could admit that trust didn't come easy to him nowadays, but Tony had given up so much for him without asking for anything in return. He had no reason to doubt Tony's sincerity or integrity.

"I do trust you," Bucky managed to say, despite the tightness of his throat. Tony was staring at him, but it wasn't in surprise — he looked awed, as if he hadn't expected Bucky to have such faith in him. "I just... didn't think to ask."

Maybe that was stupid, but it hadn't occurred to him that Tony might want to or _could_ fix it.

"Oh. Okay. Well..." Tony seemed lost for words. Then he hastily cleared his throat and gestured towards the back of the ship. "Just let me get some tools and meet me in the common room, okay? There's more room there."

"You think you can fix it?" Bucky had to ask, not because he doubted Tony's abilities, but because there had to be _some_ limit to what the man could accomplish.

"Yeah, of course I can." Tony looked offended. "The schematics were in your file, but even without them I could figure it out on my own if I had to. They don't call me a genius for nothing."

Bucky wondered who 'they' were, but knew better than to ask. He nodded instead, making sure to give Tony a grateful smile. "Okay, go get the tools."

Tony still looked like he wanted to argue his point, but eventually got to his feet and went in search of the tools Bucky had lent him.

After a deep breath Bucky rose as well, making his way to the combined common room and kitchen. It didn't have more than the bare necessities as far as cooking utilities went, the rest of the space taken up by a table and attached benches. There might have been a couch in there too at some point, but HYDRA had in all probability removed it since it was a waste of luxury on someone like the Winter Soldier.

Bucky could admit that he was nervous. Maintenance on the arm always hurt whenever HYDRA had done it, and even though Bucky assumed Tony would try his best to keep it as pain-free as possible, there were no guarantees. Bucky hadn't lied when he said that he trusted Tony, however, and he had no intention of backing out now. The arm was beginning to become a hindrance, and if Tony could fix it a little pain would be worth it.

The question was if Winter would feel the same. The last thing Bucky wanted was to have the other startle awake and start lashing out because of the pain — none of them would benefit from that.

Intentionally waking Winter up was trickier than expected, though. There was no such thing as mentally poking someone, or if there was, Bucky didn't know how to do it. In the end, he settled for pushing his insistence towards the other, much like Winter did to him to let him know what he thought.

Winter snapped to attention with the expected efficiency of a HYDRA soldier, clearly thinking a threat had appeared. Bucky hastily tried to soothe instead, but he had no idea if it was working. Talking to someone who lived inside his head was surprisingly difficult.

"Tony's going to fix the arm." Speaking to himself still felt stupid, but he didn't know how else to explain this to Winter.

The response was wariness, but no protests. Winter apparently trusted Tony too, even if he seemed more on edge than Bucky. Then again, Winter had taken the brunt of the pain they had suffered at the hands of HYDRA, so if Bucky thought getting arm maintenance was painful, Winter must have been in agony.

"I'll try not to hurt either of you," Tony said from the doorway, making both Bucky and Winter jump. Luckily, Bucky didn't have any weapons on his person this time. Tony's smile was gentle, with a teasing hint. "You're slacking off — both of you. Aren't you supposed to be able to detect a threat from, like, a mile away?"

Tony headed for the table, laying out the tools he had brought.

"You're not a threat, Tony — I trust you," Bucky replied. Winter agreed, judging by the warm, pleased hum he let out at Bucky's words.

Tony paused for a second, his hesitation showing that he'd heard, but as was so often the case when you gave him a compliment, Tony dodged it by changing the subject.

"So, you guys ready?" Tony hopped up onto the table, pushing back the long sleeves of his hoodie. He pointed at the bench, to the right of where his feet were resting. "Sit there, rest arm here." Tony patted his thigh. Bucky supposed it would be one of the easier positions for Tony to work in, given that there were no chairs for either of them.

"It's weird when you talk to the both of us at the same time," Bucky pointed out. He still did as told, straddling the bench to make the angle easier for them both. Tony took a gentle grip around Bucky's wrist when he held out his arm towards him, and gestured for Bucky to scoot even closer.

"Well, this concerns the both of you so it only seems polite," Tony replied while tucking his right leg under himself. He braced the other foot against one of Bucky's legs, before placing Bucky's arm in his lap. They were sitting very close, Bucky's left hand following the outside curve of Tony's thigh, just above his knee. It felt unbelievably intimate, which helped a great deal to set this aside from the maintenance HYDRA had submitted them to, but wasn't exactly doing Bucky's libido any favors.

Bucky couldn't really bring himself to answer, too caught up in the feel of having Tony's fingers wander along his arm. The touch was gentle but curious, as if Tony was mapping out all the little dips and curves, following the seams of the metal with his fingertips, admiring the handiwork. While Bucky might not like the arm all that much, he knew it was a work of art technology-wise.

After a quick glance — as if asking for permission, which Bucky gave with a small nod — Tony pushed up the sleeve of Bucky's t-shirt, baring even more of the arm.

"It's beautiful," Tony mumbled, tracing the red star on Bucky's shoulder. His eyes were practically glowing with eagerness, but also something much softer that might or might not have made Bucky's heart skip a beat.

"You're gonna to make me jealous of my own arm," Bucky accused, pleased at the grin his words earned him.

"Don't be like that, Buckling," Tony replied, his hand moving past Bucky's shoulder, stroking his thumb along Bucky's jaw. "I still like you best, I promise."

Bucky was pretty certain that Tony hadn't meant to touch him so intimately judging by how quickly he looked away, turning to his tools instead. There was that shyness again, as if Tony wasn't used to tenderness — neither giving nor receiving — and Bucky decided not to call him out on it, if only to avoid making Tony uncomfortable.

Bucky had quite liked the caress, though.

Tony was clearly more comfortable talking about machines than people, which was made obvious when he carefully opened one of the metal panels in Bucky's arm and got to work. He explained every single step of the process, probably in an attempt to put Bucky and Winter at ease. Tony even went on tangents to explain how things in the arm worked, using words that actually made sense. Bucky had never paid his arm much attention aside from whether or not it was working, but Tony managed to make him interested.

Tony made it sound fun.

Winter wasn't as intrigued by the mechanics, dosing off when it became obvious that Tony really did intend to keep the level of pain at a minimum. The few times there was a slight jolt or tickle he always warned on beforehand, but none of it actually hurt — not like it had when they were with HYDRA.

Tony's movements were firm and efficient, showing just how confident he was even when working on a piece of machinery he had never actually looked at in detail before. Half of the time, Bucky found himself watching Tony's face rather than what was happening to his arm. Partly because he felt a little uneasy seeing the opened panels and Tony stick his fingers literally _inside_ Bucky's arm, but more so than that because Tony looked so beautiful.

There was always a kind of glow to him when he was happy, and the easiest way to accomplish that was to let him work on something that fascinated him. Judging by the look on Tony's face, Bucky's arm was the best thing he'd seen in several years. He was so focused, his excitement bleeding into every word he spoke, making Bucky _ache_ with fondness.

He would gladly let Tony fix his arm again if it made him look this happy.

 

 

Bucky didn't actually keep track of the time so it was only when Tony asked him to try and move his hand that he realized that the repairs were almost done.

"Stretch out your fingers for me," Tony instructed, his words a little muffled around the small screwdriver he had between his teeth.

Bucky did as told, lifting his hand from where it rested against Tony's knee, splaying his fingers wide. He almost expected to feel a twinge of pain, but there was none.

Tony looked pleased, putting his palm under Bucky's fingertips. "Tap, one at a time."

Again, Bucky obeyed, tapping his fingers against Tony's palm. He tried not to shiver when Tony's hand moved again, his fingers slipping in between Bucky's.

"Squeeze."

Bucky did, their fingers lacing together. Had this been his flesh hand he was pretty sure it would have been shaking, but his metal one remained steady, gently squeezing Tony's fingers. Bucky couldn't quite feel warmth the same he did with his real arm, but there was no mistaking the pressure and reassurance of holding someone else's hand.

"Any pain?"

Bucky shook his head while Tony removed the screwdriver from between his teeth.

"Delays or twitches?"

"No, it works perfectly." Fact was, the arm felt better than it had in a long time. Bucky looked up at Tony, his smile warm and fond. "Thank you."

"Trust me, dearest — the pleasure was all mine," Tony replied, squeezing back before gently unlacing their fingers. Through some kind of miracle Bucky was able to stop himself from reaching for Tony's hand again, even though he really wanted to.

Tony placed his tools aside but made no attempt to move out of the comfortable little cocoon they had created, sitting more or less on top of each other, touching in at least three different places.

"Promise to let me know if it starts to act up again," Tony said, catching and holding Bucky's gaze. There was concern there, and enough affection to make Bucky's throat a little tight.

"Promise."

Tony's palm settled on Bucky's wrist, his thumb stroking along the metal in a way that probably shouldn't have been arousing, but managed to send a shiver of want through Bucky all the same. He quickly shoved it down.

"Is Winter okay?"

The fact that Tony even asked made a complicated mix of gratitude and jealousy gather in Bucky's chest. Bucky still wasn't sure where he and Winter stood. There was a lot of history between them — none of it good — but Bucky knew, just like he had told Tony, that Winter had only been a helpless pawn following orders. Winter _deserved_ the concern, but Bucky was ashamed to admit that a part of him wanted it for himself.

"He's fine," Bucky replied, his voice a little hoarse. "He fell asleep again."

"Wow. I'm that boring, huh?" Despite the insulted tone, Tony was grinning.

"I think he likes the sound of your voice, actually," Bucky said without thinking.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Bucky hesitated for a second, mostly because this might not be his secret to tell. "Yeah, it makes him... relax. I think he likes you."

"Huh. That's... interesting." Tony sounded flattered, though, even if it was obvious that he didn't know what to do with the information. His fingers kept running along Bucky's arm, a thoughtful look on his face. "I've been thinking about that, actually."

"Which part?"

"Winter, the brainwashing, and the whole—" Tony gestured towards Bucky's head, "—creation of a second personality. It makes sense, from a scientific point of view. Well, maybe I should say a psychological point of view?" Tony shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "Thing is, it has been proven that long-term brainwashing, ironically, isn't effective in the long run without continuous reinforcement."

Bucky frowned, trying to figure out where Tony was heading with this. "So, the soldiers the Alliance have captured should have recovered?" he asked cautiously, not really sure if Tony expected him to reply or not.

"Exactly." Tony was looking like he always did whenever he was heading towards something that involved gaining more knowledge, all enthusiasm and slightly manic excitement. "They haven't been reinforced in _years_ , but still remain loyal to HYDRA and are barely able to function without someone giving them orders. So what if they're like you? What if they also have a second personality? Maybe that's what the HYDRA virus does?"

"You've lost me," Bucky admitted.

Surprisingly, Tony didn't look frustrated. He seemed kind of eager, in fact.

"Remember what we said about Winter? How he doesn't know anything besides following orders?"

Bucky nodded.

"Well, wouldn't that be the easiest way to control someone? Adults usually have a personality and beliefs already, which is why brainwashing them is so difficult — HYDRA would have to routinely redo the programming. But if the virus creates a second personality, one that is completely new to the world and has no concept of self, morals, or free will, it wouldn't know to fight the brainwashing, would it? Because it has _literally_ never known anything else."

Nausea was building at the back of Bucky's throat.

"HYDRA didn't care about you because they knew they couldn't convert you — not completely," Tony said, gaze intent, "but if they _replace_ you with someone they could raise into their own belief system, well..."

"That... makes sense," Bucky whispered, sucking in a sharp breath. "The indoctrination didn't start until after Winter had manifested." Bucky's left hand clenched around the fabric of Tony's pants, his arm still resting in Tony's lap. "I wasn't the target — Winter was. _He's_ the one they programmed, not me."

"Which would explain why you feel no hesitation over betraying them," Tony continued. "You don't have any of the limitations that he does, because you're not HYDRA and you never really were. And the virus isn't actually brainwashing anyone — it might just be a relatively harmless parasite — but HYDRA has figured out how to use it _while_ brainwashing people. Or, more specifically, to brainwash the entity created by the virus."

"They create people only to enslave them." Bucky's entire body felt numb and he was incredibly grateful that Winter was asleep.

"Yeah, and no one ever knew, because no one has ever broken through before — until you." Tony's voice was softer now, just like his touch, his finger wandering over Bucky's tightly clenched knuckles. Bucky allowed Tony to gently unfold his metal fingers. "The leading theories at the moment are that the HYDRA virus causes a state vaguely similar to a lobotomy, even if no visible damage to the brain tissue can be detected. Basically, that the person inside is wiped or dead, but the body can still keep moving."

"But in reality, there are two of them." Did that mean that Bucky had killed twice as many people back in the workshop? The original personality, whose body had become the host, and the parasite that inhabited it.

Tony laced their fingers together and gave Bucky's hand a comforting squeeze. "Arguments can probably be made as to whether or not the parasites should be counted as people. I mean, Winter clearly is — he has a personality — but you two are, as previously established, unlike other HYDRA soldiers."

There was some truth to that. Most soldiers were empty shells, only reacting to direct orders, while Winter had been able to think from the very beginning, even if he rarely made own decisions.

"So when you are compatible with the virus, the parasite can get a better hold, which makes the second personality much stronger." Bucky was speaking more or less to himself, so he was surprised when Tony expanded on that thought.

"And when you're _not_ compatible, the parasite can't grow and it becomes half-formed, which creates the mindless drones most assimilated people become." Tony's expression was pained. "So really, it might be a mercy to kill them."

Bucky flinched. "The original personality is still in there," he said, sharper than he had intended.

"Yeah, I know, but think about it, Bucky — in the fifty years we've known of HYDRA, you're the only one who has ever regained control. There have been _millions_ of soldiers, even enhanced ones, and no one has managed what you did." The look on Tony's face showed just how much he disliked speaking the words he said next. "The only cure is to be stronger than the replacement personality, and it seems that it's quite literally a one in a million chance, maybe less. I understand if that chance might make you hesitant to kill them, but that won't work in the long run."

Tony was right — Bucky knew that — but he still felt angry. _He_ could have been one of those soldiers who were killed without being given a second chance. But he knew that if he was going to be angry at someone, it should be HYDRA. _They_ were the ones who did this. _They_ were the ones who ruined not only the lives of the people they captured and assimilated, but the innocent, defenseless entities they injected into their victims.

The next breath Bucky took hitched. The thought of every single HYDRA soldier having gone through what he had — feeling his grip on himself slip, being pushed aside and forgotten, and perhaps even witnessing the atrocities the parasite committed in his stead — nearly crushed him. Millions of people had suffered, just as badly as he had. Bucky had been so focused on his mission that he had never even considered what it had to be like for the other soldiers. He had even taken comfort in knowing that he was probably an anomaly — that the others were different, and hopefully in less pain.

Only that might not be the case anymore. There was absolutely no comfort to be had. Even if he had broken free, there were thousands upon thousands who had been just like him. They had most likely died in agony, quietly watching but helpless to stop it. _He_ had killed some of them.

Bucky wasn't alone in the fate he had suffered, but when it concerned this, he would much rather have been.

So many lives lost and so much pain — all because of HYDRA's insane plan to enslave the galaxy and demand absolute obedience.

He didn't even realize that he was crying until Tony's arms wrapped around him. Bucky might have attempted to pull out of Tony's reach if he had been able to, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He could barely breathe around the sobs rising in his throat and ended up accepting Tony's embrace, slumping against him for support.

Winter had startled awake, instantly on his guard, but that only made it worse — he was just as much of a victim in this as Bucky. Winter's confusion was palpable since he had missed what made Bucky so upset, but there were also hesitant tendrils of what could be concern.

Bucky wasn't sure if he deserved the comfort Tony was offering but he couldn't help clinging to it all the same, desperate for something to ground him. His arms slipped around Tony's middle, pulling him closer until he could bury his face in the soft, warm hoodie Tony wore. Gentle, soothing hands were stroking his hair, Tony curling around him as if to protect him from the outside world.

"We'll stop them," Tony whispered. "I promise you, Bucky, we'll stop them. I don't care what it takes — we'll stop them."

A kiss was placed on the top of Bucky's head and he managed a mute nod in reply.

One way or another, HYDRA would pay for this.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow managed to make this HYDRA even worse than the original. I mean, enslaving people is bad enough, but to create new, innocent personalities inside the heads of already existing people and _then_ enslave those? That's seriously fucked up.
> 
> Also! Art! Yay! I am still super duper proud over this picture! You can find it [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/135657345531/this-is-my-gift-for-it-just-slipped-out-as-a-part) on Tumblr. 
> 
> Bucky getting poetic about Tony's arc reactor and comparing him to a star is one of my new favourite things, not going to lie. Also, I dare you not to imagine Winter as a dozing kitten curled up inside Bucky's head in this chapter. I DARE you.


	8. The Tipping Point

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn't sure how long they sat there — Tony on the table and Bucky on the bench beneath, pressed as close as he could possibly get — but he was pretty sure that he dozed off at some point. Or maybe he just lost himself in the feel of Tony playing with his hair, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out, slowly but surely.

Winter was restless and frustrated, not sure whether there was a threat nearby or not. He clearly wasn't all that well-versed when it came to emotional trauma, which was strangely endearing, but also a little heartbreaking.

Tony had remained more or less silent, and it took Bucky a while to realize that was probably due to uncertainty. Considering everything else Bucky knew about the man he was willing to bet that Tony didn't have a habit of comforting people. He still did a fairly good job, all things considered. Or maybe it was just Bucky who couldn't help but slump from relief when he was surrounded by Tony's scent, the hum of the arc reactor so close that he could hear it without even trying.

"You feel better?" Tony asked, voice soft and careful, as if not wanting to disturb.

Bucky took a deep breath before nodding. He still kept his face hidden against Tony's stomach, not sure if he was ready to face the world just yet. The only other time he had allowed himself to break down like this was with Steve, shortly after Bucky had regained control, and even then he had been reluctant to accept the support Steve so willingly offered. Bucky didn't like to leave himself vulnerable and he absolutely _loathed_ crying.

"I'm sorry for throwing that at you." Tony still spoke oh so gently, his fingers running over the nape of Bucky's neck. The touch felt so good that Bucky didn't even care when Tony happened to brush against the injection port. "I should have realized it might be a lot to take in."

It took Bucky three tries before he was able to swallow the lump in his throat and reply. "No, I want to know."

"It's just a theory, James," Tony pointed out. "I might be wrong."

A trembling smile spread on Bucky's lips. "Does that happen often?"

"Admittedly, no. You got me there." Tony cupped the back of Bucky's head, nudging him to make him look up. Bucky did, even though he might not be entirely prepared for it yet. Tony's warm, brown gaze was full of worry. He carefully stroked his thumb over Bucky's cheek, wiping away any lingering traces of tears. "But this might be the exception to the rule."

Bucky wasn't sure when they had moved, but he was now facing the table and Tony, arms around his waist and bracketed by Tony's knees. Bucky hadn't thought they could get much closer than how they had sat during the maintenance, but he had obviously been wrong. A frail, breathless kind of intimacy hung between them, making Bucky want to lean in further. It was addicting, being this close to Tony.

He felt his chest clench when he saw the concern and affection on Tony's face.

"But the theory makes sense," Bucky said, pushing down his unease. "He's the only one who shows signs of being programmed. There are a lot of things I can do that he can't."

"Such as?"

"Choosing not to return to base once a mission is completed. If Winter took over he might turn back, simply because he _has_ to." Bucky's fingers played with the fabric on the back of Tony's hoodie, refusing to let his hands sneak in under it, no matter how much he might want to. That would have been far too invasive, but Bucky couldn't deny that the thought of feeling Tony's warm skin against his palm was incredibly tempting. Bucky cleared his throat, gaze flickering up to meet Tony's. "Winter doesn't _want_ to go back, but he might _have_ to."

"So he actually has a will of his own?" Tony tilted his head to the side.

"He didn't used to, I think, but now he kinda does. But I'm not sure if he can make decisions, if that makes sense?" Bucky shook his head. "Thing is, some of the limitations aren't noticeable until whatever he's doing clashes with his programming."

"Like..?"

"Killing a HYDRA officer." There was a stir from Winter at the mere mention of that — it was one of the lessons even Bucky remembered because of how much it had hurt. "I can, without problem, but there's a reason why every name in HYDRA's database has an attached photo — even of the spies and planted agents within the Alliance."

"I wondered about that," Tony said. "It seems like a thoroughly bad idea."

"It is, if anyone ever got to that database, but no one ever has until now. Infiltrating HYDRA is nearly impossible. Steve mentioned that they had tried several times during the war. They sent their best intelligence officer, but even she was made and barely escaped alive." Bucky swallowed. "They use the photos in the programming, to make sure that a HYDRA soldier will never shoot a high ranking officer or one of their spies."

"Huh. Like, physically incapable of hurting them?"

Bucky shrugged. "I think so? All I know is that during training we were severely punished if one of the simulations that died wore the face of a person who was affiliated with HYDRA. It didn't take long for Winter to learn not to hurt them."

"Yeah, torture is always a good motivator." The tone of voice suggested that Tony knew that from personal experience. There was a flicker or something in his eyes — a hint of fear and frailty — but it was quickly pushed aside. Bucky knew better than to ask about it. He couldn't help placing his hands against the small of Tony's back, though, following the smooth curve, his fingers splayed to keep Tony steady. It wasn't much, but Bucky could feel Tony uncoil under his hands.

Bucky looked up at Tony, throat tight. "You know what the worst part is?"

"Except everything?" The smile on Tony's lips was so weak it was barely worth calling a smile. He looked sad and tired.

"The high ranking officers and spies aren't assimilated — they're recruited. There are people out there who genuinely think HYDRA is doing the right thing. They have politicians and scientists and all kinds of intelligent people on their side, but somehow, none of them think this is wrong." Bucky tried to swallow down the burn of anger and helplessness but wasn't surprised when he didn't manage.

"Speaking on the behalf of the sane geniuses," Tony said, brushing back errant strands of hair from Bucky's face, "I can assure you that they're absolutely, one-hundred percent crazy. And wrong. And it's okay to hate them. The soldiers don't know better, but the fanatics who _choose_ this path? They're fucked up."

Bucky knew that already, but hearing Tony say the words out loud made them feel more real. There was a stir of unease from Winter — he might have figured out what Tony and Bucky were talking about by then — but Bucky didn't know what to do about that, if anything at all.

Bucky was growing more and more protective of Winter, no matter how weird that might be.

Tony nudged Bucky's chin, catching his attention.

"As much as I love sitting here with you, I think both of us need some sleep."

Bucky let out a chuckle. "You, in favor of sleeping? I never thought I'd see the day."

"Sass me all you want, Buckling, but that doesn't change the fact that you're exhausted," Tony countered, his tone fond.

Tony was right, too. Bucky's limbs felt heavy, his head aching from all the crying — sleep sounded like an excellent idea.

Extracting themselves from each other and getting to their feet took some work, and Bucky couldn't help feeling slightly embarrassed when he realized just how wrapped up in each other they had been. He had been _clinging_ to Tony, in a way he definitely shouldn't have if he wanted to keep a respectful distance between them. Not that Tony had complained, but Bucky tried not to think too much about that.

Their seating arrangement had caused one of Tony's legs to fall asleep and he had to walk with a slight limp while waiting for his circulation to return. For a split second Bucky felt guilty, until Tony started whining as if he was dying — then Bucky settled for an eye roll.

The tools were left on the table, both of them prioritizing sleep. Bucky stopped just outside of his cabin, hesitating before reaching out to catch Tony's hand.

"Thank you, Tony." The words felt insufficient but his gratitude was one of the few things Bucky could offer.

Tony tilted his head to the side, looking adorably curious. "What for?"

"Everything?" Bucky fumbled for a better explanation. "Fixing the arm, wanting to help, treating me like an ordinary person. Take your pick."

There was a short silence, Tony watching him with a thoughtful expression on his face. Slowly, he began to smile, and when he took a step closer — well into Bucky's personal space — Bucky wasn't surprised when his heart skipped a beat.

"That's my bad because you're extraordinary, if anything." Tony reached up, his thumb running ever so gently along Bucky's jaw. There was something achingly fragile in Tony's eyes, but Bucky couldn't tell if it was good or bad. "One day, you might see that too, James."

Tony's intensity would probably never stop taking Bucky's breath away, and especially not when he was being this serious. To ramble and tease came as second nature to Tony, but when he truly meant something he was nothing short of spellbinding. Tony was so incredibly sincere and devoted that Bucky couldn't help but adore him.

Bucky didn't know how to respond, tense and uncertain under Tony's fingertips. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest but he couldn't for the life of him figure out if it would be a good idea to follow his impulse and pull Tony in for a kiss. His brain told him not to. He must be mistaken — Tony couldn't possibly want _him_. But the way Tony was looking at him — open, inviting, and with just a hint of vulnerability — made Bucky's fingers itch with a need to reach out and touch. It looked like Tony wanted this just as much as Bucky did.

He waited too long.

Tony lowered his hand and took a step back. His smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Good night, James."

The moment Tony's hand slipped out of Bucky's grip he knew he had missed his opportunity — the resigned look on Tony's face said as much. Bucky wanted nothing more than to hold on and pull Tony back in, but doubt and fear and guilt kept him from it.

By the time Bucky had gathered enough courage to ask Tony to stay it was already too late; Tony had disappeared into his cabin.

The next morning Tony was back to his usual self — at least at first glance — but Bucky knew he had messed up. He could tell that Tony tried so very hard not to let the rejection from last night change the way he behaved, but there was an undeniable tension between them now, and not of the good kind.

Tony didn't touch Bucky, for one. And when Bucky tried to reach out instead, Tony began shying away from him entirely. There was no malice behind it — the flash of emotions in Tony's eyes said desperation, if anything — but Bucky's heart clenched every single time Tony danced out from under his hand.

In a matter of hours, Tony drifted further and further away from him. It happened so fast that Bucky didn't know how to stop it. Tony dodged Bucky's attempts to talk, changing the subject or making excuses to leave. He didn't want to listen when Bucky tried to apologize. Tony wasn't mean or upset, but that only made it worse, somehow. He became quiet and withdrawn, putting a distance between them that hadn't been there before, as if cutting his losses and retreating was the only way he knew how to handle the situation.

The most frustrating part was that it was just a misunderstanding. Tony had taken Bucky's hesitation for rejection, when really, he had been worried about whether or not he was good enough for someone like Tony. Because Tony was, despite his flaws and peculiarities, a genuinely nice person. He cared about those around him, to the point where he could sacrifice everything he had just to save them, and didn't ask for a single thing in return.

He had probably already forgotten that he was supposed to get paid for all the work he had done on Bucky's ship.

Bucky wasn't sure if he deserved someone like Tony. Bucky would always carry the HYDRA virus and Winter, and that was more than enough to send people running. He would always have the memories of all those deaths they had caused, and might never forgive himself for his own apathy. Bucky was a complete mess and he just couldn't see why Tony would want him. But, at the same time, he knew that Tony wasn't an idiot, and Tony knew more about Bucky's history barring only Steve. If anyone was equipped to make a decision as to whether or not Bucky was worth the hassle, it was Tony.

And Tony had wanted Bucky to kiss him. The reason why Tony was shying away from him now was that Bucky hadn't done it when he had the chance. No matter what he thought of himself, Bucky couldn't leave it at that — not when Tony was so unhappy. The last thing Bucky wanted was to hurt Tony and he certainly wasn't going to just stand by and watch while he suffered.

So, while it might not be very nice of him, Bucky decided to ambush Tony. He just needed to corner him long enough to explain that Tony got it all wrong. Bucky hadn't responded because he wanted it _too_ much, to the point where he thought he might have been projecting his own feelings onto Tony.

Ambushing Tony was easier said than done, however, since he was apparently quite slippery when he wanted to be. Luckily, Bucky was very patient and not unfamiliar to using unfair advantages to get what he wanted. After spending a day being avoided by Tony, Bucky felt he had a very good reason to fight a little dirty.

He pretended to go to bed that night, knowing full well that Tony wouldn't. Bucky could have made it easy for himself and simply waited outside Tony's cabin, but that would probably do more harm than good. The cabin was supposed to be a place where Tony felt safe enough to sleep — infringing on that was a bad idea.

Instead he waited until Tony had relocated to the bridge, as he so often did when he wanted to pass the time. Tony and Bucky had that in common.

It was in the middle of the night by then — closer to morning, really — but Bucky didn't care. Tony might be sleep-deprived and testy, but Bucky couldn't afford to wait any longer, not when Tony kept drifting further away from him.

Bucky made sure to move soundlessly through the ship, pushing back a curious Winter. The parasite was far too intrigued by the thought of sneaking up on an unsuspecting Tony. Bucky had full understanding if Winter was a bit odd, but that was bordering on creepy, even if Winter's intention was playful rather than sinister. To be honest, a playful Winter was almost more unsettling than a sinister one — at least Bucky knew how to handle sinister.

Only when Bucky was sure that Tony wouldn't be able to escape did he let his footsteps grow loud enough that Tony would hear him. Bucky stopped just inside the threshold of the bridge, blocking the doorway. There wasn't much finesse to his approach but Bucky had never been good at tiptoeing around a problem. He had learned to meet the opposition head on when necessary — you couldn't be afraid of arguments and be friends with someone as stubborn as Steve Rogers.

Tony was the kind of person who circumvented a problem, especially if it made him feel uncomfortable or inadequate. There was a flicker of dread on his face when he looked up and saw Bucky. Tony had to know what was coming and judging by his expression he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"We need to talk." Bucky kept his arms relaxed at his sides, knowing that crossing them would make him seem unnecessarily confrontational.

"If this is about who ate all the peanut butter I'm completely innocent." Tony was trying to deflect again — to derail Bucky with nonsense to avoid talking about the important things. It was so obvious, not only in his choice of words and the forcibly lofty tone, but in the way he turned back to the computer, his shoulders stiff with tension.

"We need to talk about last night," Bucky clarified, keeping his tone level.

There was a brief silence and even from where he was standing Bucky could see Tony swallow.

"It's fine."

"Bullshit."

"No, Bucky, it really is," Tony said, but he still wasn't looking at him. "I understand."

"No, you don't. You—"

"Contrary to popular belief," Tony interrupted, his voice rising a little higher, "I can tell when I'm not wanted. And I can handle rejection."

"That wasn't a rejection, Tony."

Tony let out a derisive snort, the line of his shoulders rigid and defensive. "Sure seemed like one."

"I hesitated, yes, but that wasn't meant as a rejection," Bucky explained, taking a step closer. Tony still wouldn't be able to slip past him — not that he seemed interested in trying.

Tony didn't answer, but at least he stopped pretending that he was working on something. Instead he just sat there, staring at the computer screen, jaws tightly clenched.

"Tony, I _do_ want—"

"You tense up almost every time I touch you," Tony bit out sharply, his posture even stiffer, as if he was barely able to curb his emotions. "You jump when I enter a room. Whenever I try to flirt you just stare at me as if I'm some kind of idiot." Tony took a trembling breath, his face turned away. Bucky didn't need to see Tony's expression to hear the tightness in his voice, however. "At first I thought it might just be that you weren't used to it, or a symptom of the PTSD, or maybe that you weren't ready. But yesterday you looked..."

When Tony didn't continue, Bucky took another step closer.

"Looked?" he prompted.

Tony gritted his teeth. "Uncomfortable. Afraid. So I'm backing off. This is me, backing off."

"Tony—"

"For fuck's sake, James!" Tony barked, turning the chair around to glare at Bucky, his anger not hiding the devastation underneath. "I'm _scaring_ you. That's one hell of a good reason to back off right there. What else is there to say?"

"A lot!" Bucky shot back, rising to the challenge. "Because you misunderstood entirely!"

"Really?" Tony spat, getting up from his chair. He still had to look up at Bucky, even when standing, but seemed to gain some confidence when they were at more equal heights. "You're saying you tense up because you _like it_ so much?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm saying!"

That made Tony stop short.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "That makes no sense. Why would it make you uncomfortable when you get something you want?"

For a supposed genius, Tony was awfully stupid sometimes.

"Because I want it _too_ much," Bucky replied, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes.

Tony stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Are you _high_?"

This time, Bucky really did roll his eyes. "Stop being so over-dramatic. Is it really that hard to believe that I'm as attracted to you as are you are to me?"

"Yes! With my reputation—"

"Tony, I don't care about your reputation," Bucky interrupted, but he didn't get further than that before Tony spoke right over him.

"Everybody cares about my reputation!"

That was either an extreme exaggeration or the absolute truth — Bucky wasn't sure which one he would prefer.

"I don't even know your last name!" Bucky exclaimed, spreading his arms. "I don't know a single thing about your reputation, except that I don't give a flying fuck about it!"

Tony froze, his eyes wide with surprise. It took a couple of seconds before understanding began to dawn on his face, but he still looked completely taken aback.

"Oh." His expression was difficult to identify but it was strangely close to awe — maybe even wonder — as if no one had ever gotten to know him in that order before.

"So when I say that I like you — which I do — I mean _you_ , Tony," Bucky said firmly. "Just you."

It looked like Tony might have forgotten how to breathe. He just stood there, stock-still, staring at Bucky. After several seconds he seemed to snap out of it, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to Bucky, only to avert again. He looked so unsure and out of balance that Bucky almost began wondering if he had said something wrong.

Had no one ever liked Tony for who he was before?

When he finally spoke again, Tony's voice was timid. "But... why?"

Never in his life had Bucky heard so much disbelief and self-loathing in two simple words, or thought that so little could say so much. Bucky wanted nothing more than to cross the space between them and pull Tony close, to cradle him in his arms and shelter and protect him from whatever it was that had made him doubt himself so much.

Bucky was fairly certain that would only make Tony uncomfortable, however.

"'Cause you're brilliant, Tony," he replied instead, making sure to convey as much sincerity as possible. "Weird and a little bit annoying, sure, but you're just... amazing. How can you not see that?"

Tony still wasn't looking at him, his shoulders raised defensively. He looked so uncertain, as if the thought of someone liking him for who he was — despite his flaws — was unheard of. Bucky dared to step closer, until he was almost at a distance where he could reach out and touch him. He wanted to, so badly, but Tony's body language said he shouldn't, not yet.

"The only reason I didn't kiss you was because I doubted _myself_." The next words Bucky spoke took a lot more effort than they should have. "I don't know if I deserve... well, _you_."

Tony let out a strained noise that might have been intended as a chuckle. "That's a first." He rubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. "It's, uh, usually the other way around, what with my reputation and... yeah."

Bucky could admit that he was curious about Tony's history, but he wasn't so desperate that he'd ask. It was Tony's choice whether or not to tell him and Bucky wasn't going to pressure him about it. He knew all too well what it was like to have a past you wanted to distance yourself from.

"I wouldn't know," Bucky said, taking another step closer, catching Tony's gaze when he looked up at him. There were still a couple of inches between them but it felt like less. "But I _do_ know I want this."

There were still doubts — Bucky knew he wasn't what Tony deserved — but he tried to tell himself that wasn't his decision to make. It was Tony's choice and taking that from him would be both disrespectful and condescending. Being concerned and protective was one thing, but Bucky never wanted to limit another person's free will.

The silence lingered, and while Tony looked hesitant he didn't seem uncomfortable with the close proximity. He was gravitating towards Bucky, if anything. The air was vibrating with tension — a good kind this time.

"Do you believe me?" Bucky asked.

The anxious knot in his chest loosened when Tony nodded, even if it he was slow to do it.

"I guess I do." Tony glanced down at his feet, clearing his throat. "I mean, it's difficult not to when you look so serious. If you keep frowning like that your face will get stuck."

Bucky couldn't hold back a fond snort. "That's probably the least imaginative comeback I've ever heard."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, chuckling softly. The sound was a little strained but a relief to hear none the less. Tony was relaxing, the anger and defensiveness finally bleeding out of him. "I'm usually a lot better at this."

"I know."

Tony looked up, hesitating for a second before he spoke. "You shouldn't doubt yourself."

Bucky stiffened, not knowing what to reply.

"I don't let people close," Tony blurted out. "It's not a thing I do. Ask anyone — they'll agree. I don't like people touching me or handing me things or being near me, unless..." He ducked his head, searching for words — or just feeling too embarrassed to meet Bucky's gaze. "Unless they mean something."

Somehow, Bucky was able to keep breathing.

"You're sayin' I mean something? To you?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I wouldn't say you deserve me because that's like saying someone deserves an aneurysm," Tony rambled, "but I wouldn't be here unless I wanted to. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be."

That was more than Bucky had ever dared to hope for.

When Tony looked up, his gaze shy but hopeful, Bucky couldn't help reaching out towards him. He'd known Tony for almost two weeks but could still count the times he'd attempted to touch him — it was Tony who usually took the initiative. Bucky didn't want to admit it but he held his breath when his thumb brushed against Tony's cheek. For years his hands had only caused death and destruction and he almost worried that he wouldn't remember how to be gentle.

"So this is happening?" The words were nothing more than a soft murmur, Tony angling his head to meet the touch. His skin was warm under Bucky's fingertips.

"If we want it to," Bucky replied, grateful to hear that his voice remained stable even if he felt everything but that. His heart was beating faster, hope and desire coiling in his chest.

When Tony moved he did so slowly, carefully stepping closer, leaning into Bucky's warmth. There was virtually no space between them when he eventually stopped. Bucky could feel the hum of the arc reactor against his own chest, a soft vibration that went straight to his core.

"Do you?" Tony mumbled, mere inches from Bucky's lips.

Bucky let out a slow breath, cupping Tony's cheek. "You have no idea how much, sweetheart."

The soft, happy smile Tony gave him was enough to make Bucky's breath catch. He felt he couldn't be blamed for leaning down for a kiss. Tony let out a delighted little noise, his hands settling on Bucky's hips.

The kiss was gentle at first — careful and shy, as if they were testing the waters — but eventually Tony's fingers curled into the fabric of Bucky's t-shirt, tugging him closer, until they were flush against each other. That was all the invitation Bucky needed.

He deepened the kiss, cradling Tony's head between his hands. Tony didn't seem the least bit bothered by the metal hand — or the fact that Bucky could hurt him quite severely without even trying — and only pressed closer.

Bucky might not know a whole lot about who Tony really was, but he sure could kiss. It was intense — like everything else Tony did — and the heat of the kiss sent shivers down Bucky's spine. Tony's enthusiasm was breathtaking but still unhurried; he kissed as if Bucky was the only thing that mattered.

Being the sole focus of Tony's attention was thrilling and Bucky might or might not have moaned when he realized that this was his. Tony's brilliance — the touch of his lips, the taste of him, the way he shivered when Bucky ran his fingers through the hairs at Tony's nape — all of that was his, at least for the time being.

Bucky was holding one of those beautiful, untouchable stars in his hands and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to let go.

The slow, sensual kiss made Bucky burn, warmth spreading through his veins, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Tony's beard tickled but Bucky found that he didn't mind. He was far too distracted by the feel of Tony's hands, sliding in under his t-shirt and up along his back. There were callouses on Tony's hands — scars and nicks from his work — and Bucky couldn't help that he shivered, his skin tingling in the wake of Tony's touch.

It was Tony who eventually had to pull back to catch his breath, but he was still close enough that Bucky could feel the outline of the arc reactor against his chest, their lips brushing. Tony's hands were splayed over Bucky's back and he didn't seem the least inclined to remove them. Bucky didn't mind that one bit.

Tony hummed, a pleased smile spreading on his lips. "I've got to say, you're very convincing."

Bucky smiled back, resting his forehead against Tony's, his right hand running through Tony's tousled hair. "You have no idea, sweetheart."

"I'm really beginning to see the benefits of being your kept man," Tony mumbled, leaning into the touch like an affectionate cat, his eyes closing from bliss. He didn't seem entirely aware of the words he was speaking, which only made Bucky grin wider.

"Despite having to wear shoes?" he teased.

"Well, there's room for negotiation." Tony looked up at him with a coy smile, his gaze half-lidded.

Bucky felt a pang of lust, knowing that look was meant for him.

"That's non-negotiable, I'm afraid," he answered before pulling Tony in for another kiss to silence the inevitable protests. Tony agreed readily enough, practically melting against Bucky, loose and trusting. Knowing that Tony wasn't afraid — or even the least bit worried — sent another sizzle of desire through Bucky.

The fact that Tony trusted him so completely would never stop being a miracle to Bucky.

Once the second kiss ended Tony took the opportunity to nuzzle Bucky's jaw, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns on Bucky's back.

"Not that I'm known for my decency, but I have to ask," Tony whispered, his nose nudging against Bucky's ear, making him shiver. "Is Winter watching this?"

Bucky stiffened. He hadn't even thought of that, too caught up in the moment to think about Winter — who had been suspiciously quiet, truth be told.

"He's..." Bucky paused, trying to figure out how to explain what he was sensing from the other. "Ignoring us."

Tony let out an amused snort before leaning back, catching Bucky's gaze.

"We bore him?" Tony's eyes were sparkling with mirth. Bucky couldn't help kissing him again — just a quick press of their lips to see if he could catch a little bit of his smile.

"He's not interested in this sort of thing, is my guess," Bucky replied once he eased back again. As far as he knew, Winter had never felt as much as a flicker of attraction for anyone, let alone sexual desire.

"Well, it's nice of him to give us some privacy, then." Tony's smirk was playful, his tone making it blatantly obvious what he was suggesting. But no matter how much Bucky might want to succumb to Tony's charm, he knew now was not the best time.

He pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead before wrapping his arms around him. Tony didn't protest but seemed slightly disappointed by the innocence of the embrace.

"It's four in the morning, Tony," Bucky said, finally allowing himself to bury his nose in Tony's hair. It was just as lovely as he had imagined.

Tony hesitated, probably wondering whether to take that as a rejection or not. Bucky closed his eyes, his lips brushing against Tony's ear.

"I want to — don't doubt that, sweetheart — but I think both of us need to sleep." He was more emotionally drained than physically tired, but sleep was a good idea either way.

Tony relaxed again, pulling his hands out from under Bucky's t-shirt and letting them rest on his clothed back instead.

"Fine, we'll sleep." The words could have been petulant but the way Tony buried his face against Bucky's neck suggested he wasn't all that offended. Tony was apparently quite affectionate when given the opportunity.

Bucky loved it.

"You can sleep in my bed, if you want?" he offered. He had no idea how he'd react to sleeping next to another person again after so long — or if Tony would even want something like that — but the thought of keeping Tony close was incredibly appealing.

"I want that very much," Tony replied, placing a kiss on Bucky's neck. Then another, followed by a little nibble that sent a shock of desire straight to Bucky's dick — if he'd had any less self-control he would have moaned.

"You are devious," he accused, pulling Tony's head back to give him a kiss, albeit a short one. "And wonderful," he mumbled against Tony's lips. "Absolutely breathtaking."

Tony didn't seem to know what to do with the praise except give Bucky another kiss, holding on a little more desperately than before. As soon as the kiss was over he hid his face against Bucky's neck again. Bucky smiled softly, running his metal hand through Tony's hair.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Tony whispered, making Bucky pause. He had no idea where that came from or what Tony was referring to. Tony's arms were sliding around Bucky's waist, hugging him tightly. "I'm not stupid enough to think you won't find out who I am eventually, and I'm not keeping it from you because I want to." Tony snorted. "Well, okay, that's a lie. I don't want you to know, because as soon as people do they—"

"Sssh, it's okay."

Tony shook his head. "It's really not. You might look at me differently. You might..."

"What? Stop liking you?" Bucky would have wanted to look Tony in the eye, but the way he was clinging to Bucky suggested he wouldn't do so willingly right now. The fact that Tony nodded almost broke Bucky's heart. "Tony, of course I won't."

"You might."

"I won't," Bucky persisted. "I know you, Tony, and I won't stop liking you."

There was a short silence, Tony's breaths fanning against Bucky's neck while the arc reactor hummed away in the non-existent space between them.

"Promise?"

Bucky was willing to bet Tony hadn't actually planned to say that out loud. Even though it hurt to hear, Bucky was glad he got the opportunity to reply because there was no doubt in his mind what the answer was.

"I promise, sweetheart."

Tony nodded stiffly, still not looking up at Bucky, but that was okay — Bucky understood if he didn't want to face this head on.

"And I know why you won't tell me," Bucky said. He wasn't stupid, after all — of course Tony had a reason for not telling him his name. "It's because Winter can be ordered to tell HYDRA, if they catch us."

Tony finally seemed to relax, if only a little. He nodded again, his voice low when he said, "I can't risk it."

"I know," Bucky soothed, "I understand."

There was another silence, broken by Tony's soft sigh. "You're unbelievable."

Bucky smiled crookedly. "Good or bad?"

"Both," Tony replied without hesitation, "but mostly good."

Bucky shrugged. "I can live with that." He nudged Tony, making him straighten. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Despite his reluctance, Tony nodded. He wasn't quite meeting Bucky's eyes but that was understandable — Tony didn't like dealing with emotions and he had been forced to reveal quite a great deal.

Bucky shepherded Tony towards the back of the ship, still nervous at the thought of sleeping in the same bed but too eager to back out. And when they eventually slid under the sheets, Tony wearing nothing but those soft pants of his, well, Bucky was pretty sure he had made the right choice.

Tony seemed a little awkward at first, clearly not knowing how to position himself. Bucky solved it for them by pulling him close, Tony's back against Bucky's chest, his arm wrapped loosely around Tony's waist. And if Bucky couldn't help bury his nose in Tony's hair, well, who could blame him?

Tony didn't seem to mind, his fingers lacing together with Bucky's. The glow of the arc reactor kept the worst of the darkness at bay, giving the room a soft, blue hue. The light was soothing, perhaps because it was irrefutable proof of who Bucky had wrapped up in his arms.

Winter was curling up to sleep as well, humming from satisfaction. While he wasn't interested in anything sexual he didn't mind intimacy, it seemed — at least not when Tony was involved. Bucky wasn't sure if it was good or bad that Winter was getting so fond of Tony, but he doubted that there was anything he could do about it.

He couldn't even keep _himself_ from getting attached, much less the unruly parasite living inside his head.

It didn't take long for Tony to drift off to sleep, surprisingly enough, which said a great deal about how tired he had to be. Bucky spent a couple of minutes just listening to him breathe before he allowed himself to relax and follow suit.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's such a relief to write a character like Bucky, who would actually want to straighten out a misunderstanding rather than flee from it (like Tony). Just imagine what kind of angstfest this would have turned into otherwise.
> 
> And yes, Winter is asexual. He's _very_ fond of intimacy, but since he's basically a parasite created from a virus, there's no reason for him to have a sex drive. He doesn't reproduce like we humans do.
> 
> I, uh, think you guys will like the next chapter. It's a very nice chapter. Very cute and fluffy (amongst other things).


	9. The Lovers

 

* * *

 

Waking up next to Tony was without a doubt one of the best things that had happened to Bucky since he regained control of himself. Tony might not be wrapped up in his arms anymore — they had rolled away from each other sometime during the night — but he was still there next to Bucky, tangled in the sleep-warmed sheets.

Bucky had no idea what time it was, but he didn't really care. Tony was lying on his side, facing Bucky, dark eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones and wayward locks of dark hair curling against his forehead. He looked ethereal in the glow of the arc reactor, and even though Bucky didn't want to ruin the perfection of the moment, he couldn't help reaching across the narrow space between them. He brushed the back of his fingers against Tony's lips, not realizing that he had used his left until Tony let out a deep, sighing breath, the rush of air too soft for Bucky's metal fingers to feel.

Tony reached up, catching Bucky's hand before he had time to pull it back. Slowly, after another contended sigh, Tony's eyes opened. He still looked half-asleep, his smile lazy but fond.

"Mornin'," he slurred, blinking a couple of times to supposedly wake himself up.

Bucky couldn't help smiling back despite knowing that he probably looked embarrassingly dorky while doing so.

"Mornin'," Bucky echoed, his heart skipping a beat when Tony tugged Bucky's hand to his chest, curling around it like a child would a stuffed bear. The metal plates of Bucky's hand shone in the light of the arc reactor, his fingers squeezing ever so gently around Tony's. "I can't imagine that's very cuddly," he pointed out. His arm might not have any sharp edges but it was still made of cold, hard metal.

"Ssh," Tony hushed him, his warm, brown gaze still somewhat unfocused — which only made him look more adorable, really. "I love it. Your arm is beautiful." Tony's other hand stroked along the metal and Bucky was pretty certain that Tony would have cooed, had he not been so groggy from sleep.

Bucky had no idea what to do with that. Winter, who was relatively calm and quiet — possibly due to the early hour — seemed to love it, though.

"Actually, both of your arms are beautiful," Tony amended, "but this is the one I have at my disposal, so I'm totally going to take advantage."

"Are you now?"

"Yep. Totally." And true enough, Tony didn't seem the least bit inclined to let Bucky's hand go. Not that Bucky minded the closeness, but Tony's fascination for his metal arm was quite unusual. Then again, most things Tony did were.

Bucky's gaze drifted to the arc reactor, the soft hum slightly louder in the morning stillness — or maybe that was just Bucky's imagination. The back of his hand was pressed up against the metal and glass and he slowly unfurled his fingers, a soft clack echoing in the room when his knuckles bumped against the smooth surface of the reactor.

"Does it hurt?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he wasn't the least bit surprised when Tony tensed.

Those big, beautiful eyes met Bucky's, suddenly wide awake and wary. Tony didn't pull back or push Bucky's hand away, but it was obvious that Bucky had crossed a line, either by touching the reactor or asking about it — perhaps a combination of the two.

Tony seemed to weigh his options and Bucky knew he was going to deflect the question even before he actually said anything.

"Will there be breakfast in bed?" The words were spoken innocently enough but they both knew Tony was just trying to avoid the subject.

Bucky knew that he shouldn't push — Tony didn't like to talk about things that could make him seem vulnerable — but he couldn't bring himself to reply to Tony's evasive maneuver either. Tense, silent seconds lingered before Tony let out a frustrated sigh.

"Yes, it hurts," he said sullenly, looking at the collar of Bucky's t-shirt rather than his eyes.

"Often?" Bucky asked, dreading the answer. It would make sense, though, since depending on how deep the reactor went parts of Tony's sternum and ribs must have been removed. It might even be pressing against his lungs.

"All the time, more or less." Tony shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. He uncurled a little, giving Bucky a better view of the reactor where it sat embedded in his chest. The scars had to be a year or two old but they still looked painful. "It's not dangerous to touch it, though." Tony tapped the glass, as if to prove his point. "Well, unless you punch it, since that would probably make my ribcage cave in and definitely rupture some internal organs."

The thought of someone damaging the reactor made Bucky's chest hurt. He tried to hold back a pained noise but couldn't have been very successful judging by the way Tony looked at him. Winter was growling at the back of Bucky's head, clearly feeling just as protective as Bucky did.

There was a slight pause before Tony exhaled, nudging Bucky's hand against the reactor. "It doesn't break easily, James. I promise."

"I could still break it." Bucky had no idea why he said that. It was the truth, sure, but the kind of truth that shouldn't be spoken out loud.

Tony pursed his lips, looking frustrated rather than afraid. "But you won't, will you?"

"Accidents—"

"Happen to all of us, I know," Tony cut in. He turned Bucky's hand over, metal fingers clicking against the glass of the reactor. "But you're so careful it's almost ridiculous. You're not going to break it by _accident_ , James."

Their gazes held, Tony's calm and unwavering. "Or by choice."

Bucky could pull his hand back — Tony didn't have the strength to hold him and he wasn't trying to — but Bucky found himself hesitating. He knew that being afraid of touching the reactor only made Tony feel self-conscious and insecure, possibly even made him think that Bucky had something against it. That wasn't the case, but Tony didn't know that.

The way Tony let Bucky's fingertips rest against the reactor was a clear invitation to do away with some of that fear. Bucky had no intention of throwing that kind of trust back in Tony's face.

After a brief second to gather his courage Bucky let his fingers run over the surface of the reactor. He traced the glowing circle, making sure not to press too hard. He believed Tony when he said it wouldn't break easily, but that didn't mean that Bucky wanted to test just how sturdy it was.

"It's beautiful," he mumbled, light seeping out through the gaps between his fingers. He no longer felt the urge to cover that soft, blue glow, far too mesmerized to want to see it taken away.

He glanced up at Tony's frowning face — he clearly hadn't expected that to be Bucky's reaction. Bucky smiled, gently tapping his fingers against the reactor.

"I think it's beautiful," he repeated. "It scares me how vulnerable it makes you, but it's beautiful."

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, but must have thought better of it. Instead he caught Bucky's hand again, lacing their fingers together.

"I guess we're even, then. I like your arm, you like my arc reactor." Tony shrugged.

Bucky's gaze was drawn to their entwined hands, Tony's made out of pale flesh and fragile bones while Bucky's was all metal. It was frightening just how easy it would be for him to hurt Tony — just one swift squeeze and he could shatter the bones in Tony's hand. Tony had to know that too, but that didn't stop him from holding Bucky's hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. That kind of trust was unnerving and Bucky wasn't sure what he had done to deserve it.

"I don't like my arm." Bucky hadn't planned to say the words out loud, but Tony didn't look surprised now that he had.

"Yeah, I've realized," Tony replied, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against the metal. "Which is a shame."

"HYDRA made it."

"That they did, and while they are definitely assholes, the arm is magnificent." Tony shrugged again. "But I have a different perspective than you do. I don't know how painful it was to install — though I can guess, based on the schematics — or what it's like to carry it around, but I _do_ know that it's a lot more advanced than most other artificial limbs out there." Fingers trailed over Bucky's knuckles. "So if you're going to have a bionic arm, I'd say this is one of the best choices."

Bucky knew that made sense — his real arm was lost either way — but he couldn't help feeling angry and violated. It wasn't the arm itself that he disliked but the situation surrounding it, and the fact that the decision had been taken out of Bucky's hands. HYDRA had installed the arm without his permission, then told Winter to use it to hurt people.

"Can it be removed?" Bucky had to ask even if he wasn't sure if he would want to go through with it.

Tony nodded. "But it would hurt — probably more than when they installed it."

Winter hissed in anger, which Bucky could understand. He couldn't remember everything from the procedure but he bet Winter did. Those couldn't be fond memories.

"Would you do it?" There was no judgment in Tony's voice, thankfully enough. He looked curious, if anything.

The thought of getting rid of the arm was undeniably tempting — just to spite HYDRA and reclaim some of his dignity — but putting himself and Winter through the agonizing procedure wasn't as appealing. Besides, they needed an arm and the one they had was fully functional, so even if the creators were people Bucky hated he had no real reason to get rid of it.

He shook his head, which made Winter uncoil from obvious relief.

"It might not be good for anything except hurting people, but it's better than no arm at all."

The look Tony gave him was a little unsettling. There was still no judgment or disapproval in his gaze, but the sheer intensity made Bucky want to squirm. He knew that Tony was frighteningly intelligent and he could tell that Tony's mind was spinning, but in what direction and what for was difficult to predict. Whatever it was, he seemed to decide not to bring it up. He relaxed against his pillow instead, yawning widely.

He squeezed Bucky's hand. "I forgot to ask earlier, but how much do you actually feel?"

"Quite a lot," Bucky replied, smiling when Tony looked immediately intrigued. He unlaced their fingers in order to study Bucky's hand more closely.

Tony's fingertips wandered along Bucky's palm, pressing down gently before looking up in obvious question.

"Yes," Bucky confirmed, voice full of amusement, "I can feel that."

"So it's pressure sensitive? What about vibrations?"

"It's possible, but feels muted." Bucky's gaze followed the invisible trail Tony drew with his fingertips, tracing swirly patterns against Bucky's palm. "The same with that. I can sort of feel it, but it isn't the same as my flesh arm."

Tony hummed, his fingers continuing to wander. He looked completely engrossed in what he was doing, sliding over the metal seams on Bucky's fingers, then the plates at the back of his hand. The pressure was just enough to send a shiver down Bucky's spine, his breaths growing a little shorter. He wasn't sure if that was Tony's intention, but being shown this kind of attention, well — most people would enjoy that. The fact that they were lying facing each other on Bucky's bed did its fair share too, Tony's hair ruffled from sleep and the sheets tangled around their bodies.

Bucky was extremely tempted to let his own hand run along all that warm, smooth skin that Tony was showing off so casually.

"How about temperature changes?" Tony asked. He looked so relaxed, gazing at Bucky through those pretty lashes of his, eyes like dark, molten gold.

Bucky had to swallow before he found his voice and could reply. "If it's warm or cold enough."

Tony smiled — a slow, wicked smile that made Bucky's chest clench with want — and pulled the metal hand closer. Bucky honestly forgot how to breathe when his fingertips came in contact with Tony's lips. The touch was barely firm enough to be noticeable, but that only made it more difficult to ignore. He couldn't feel the texture or the gentle puffs of air when Tony breathed, but he definitely felt the slight elevation in temperature.

Or maybe that was just Bucky's libido talking.

The air felt warm and too thick to breathe, vibrating with tension. Tony's heavy-lidded gaze lit a burn of pleasure in Bucky's gut, the sensation spreading like a wildfire through his veins. Maybe he should have moved, but instead found himself transfixed by Tony's smile.

"Do you feel that?" Tony whispered.

Bucky had no idea if Tony was referring to the warmth of his lips or the subtle vibration of his words against Bucky's fingertips, but he nodded all the same. Tony grinned, soft and lazy, stroking Bucky's palm with his thumb. The touch sent another shiver down Bucky's spine.

"How about this?"

Bucky's breath hitched when Tony opened his mouth and his tongue slipped out, licking Bucky's index finger. There was nothing Bucky could do but stare, mesmerized by the soft flutter of Tony's dark lashes. Before Bucky had time to reply — not that he would have been able to — Tony tilted his head, just so, and wrapped his lips around Bucky's finger.

The half-choked noise Bucky let out was downright embarrassing.

A wave of desire slammed into him when Tony ran his tongue against the pad of Bucky's finger, humming low in his throat. The warmth of Tony's mouth and the teasing pressure of his tongue was more than enough for Bucky to feel it.

Fact was, he was pretty sure that he would never be able to look at his hand the same ever again.

Bucky's heart was racing, the beats echoing loudly in his ears. He barely took notice of Winter when he retreated, clearly not interested in the proceedings. Bucky had to stifle a groan when Tony pulled back, slow and steady, until Bucky's finger eventually slipped out from between his lips. Tony's eyes were blazing when their gazes met, hunger and need blending with something much gentler — but no less breathtaking.

"See," Tony murmured, fingers stroking down along Bucky's arm, "it's useful for a lot of things."

Bucky was well aware of the point Tony was trying to make but was in no mood to argue — there were several things that were a lot higher on his list of priorities.

"You'll be the death of me," Bucky breathed, the pitch of his voice making the words sound more like a moan. He reached out, his flesh hand sliding behind Tony's neck, tugging him closer. Tony came willingly, clearly just as eager to erase the distance between them.

The kiss was much more urgent than the ones they had shared the night before. It was deep, searing, and full of Tony's usual intensity, making sparks dance under Bucky's skin and pleasure coil in his gut. He welcomed the overwhelming sensations and chased after the taste with his tongue, heedless of how desperate that might make him seem.

Bucky let out a soft moan when Tony pushed himself up, swinging one of his legs over Bucky's body to straddle his hips, somehow managing not to break the kiss in the process. Without prompting, Bucky's hands settled on Tony's thighs, sliding upwards, drawing a lovely, needy little noise from Tony.

Last night might not have been the most appropriate time for something like this but nothing was holding them back now. It didn't matter that the sheets were tangled around their limbs, restricting their movements, or that they had morning breath, or that Bucky still wasn't sure what time it was — everything was perfect. He wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was.

Tony's fingers tangled into Bucky's hair as he threw himself into the kiss, what little air that was left between them humming with need. There was something almost fragile about their urgency but Bucky wasn't sure how to slow down. He had wanted this for days and now that Tony was finally in his arms Bucky never wanted to stop.

Tony hummed into the kiss, his back arching when Bucky's hands moved to settle on his ass. The result was a slow roll of Tony's hips that caused lovely, torturous friction between them. Bucky's breath almost caught, his hand following the smooth, beautiful curve of Tony's lower back, urging him to keep going. Metal fingertips danced over the dip of Tony's spine and Bucky wasn't sure if he imagined how Tony shivered. He moved with Bucky's touch, so fluent and responsive that Bucky had to hold back a groan.

The kiss was turning a little sloppy on accounts of their eagerness but neither of them seemed to mind. Tony broke it only to let out a gasping breath against Bucky's lips, pausing for a brief, trembling second before grinning widely and diving back in again. Bucky met him on equal ground, urging Tony's hips to keep moving, grinding their erections together. The friction would eventually become painful if they didn't remove their clothes, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to let go of Tony long enough to try.

He even let out a growling noise of complaint when Tony was the one to ease back.

"Just let me get this." Tony reached down, trying to untangle his foot from the sheets. His other hand was sliding down along Bucky's chest, clearly admiring the view even if Bucky was still fully clothed. It was quite flattering, really, to see just how distracted Tony looked, his gaze never leaving Bucky. "Yeah, don't think I'm trying to postpone this any longer than I have to," Tony said, "but I really can't move with the sheets being all— oh for heaven's sake! This is ridicul—"

Tony overbalanced, tipping to the side and landing with a soft _oof_ on the bed next to Bucky. There was a beat of silence before both of them started snickering, Tony burying his face against Bucky's shoulder in a half-assed attempt to muffle the sound. Bucky wasn't even sure why he laughed — it didn't seem entirely appropriate considering what they were trying to accomplish — but it felt good. Laughing felt right.

He felt happy.

He reached out, helping Tony pull the sheets away — both of them still grinning — before pushing himself up so that he could lean over Tony. The second their eyes met everything seemed to slow to a gentle halt. Tony was looking up at him, his grin softening into a smile, warmth and fondness mingling with the still-present desire. There was a tug inside Bucky's chest, the silence lingering for another couple of beats, precious and significant somehow.

Tony kept smiling.

"Hi," he mumbled, fingertips reaching up to brush against Bucky's lips. There was so much tenderness in that one simple gesture that Bucky's chest clenched. The moment seemed so fragile that he barely dared to breathe.

"Okay?" Bucky wasn't ever sure why and in which capacity he was asking, but Tony seemed to understand.

"Perfect," he replied, his fingers sliding into Bucky's hair. "Come here."

Bucky didn't need to be told twice, leaning down to accept the kiss and moving to settle in between Tony's spread legs. Their pace had slowed considerably but there was still a shock of pleasure sizzling along Bucky's spine when Tony rolled his hips. The lust that burned low in Bucky's stomach didn't need more than that to flare up again. The kiss deepened and hands began to rove.

When Tony tugged on his t-shirt Bucky complied, pushing up just enough to pull it off and toss it aside. He was just on his way to return to the kissing when Tony's hand landed in his chest, halting his movement. For a split second Bucky feared something was wrong, until he saw the look in Tony's eyes.

Had Bucky been more innocent he might have blushed.

"I'm not sure if I should congratulate you on your obvious perfection, or congratulate me for being the one who gets to enjoy it," Tony said, grinning up at Bucky while his hand slid down Bucky's bare chest. His fingers dipped lower, tracing Bucky's abs with the kind of reverence he usually only devoted to machines and complex equations.

Tony let out an appreciative sound that was just a tiny bit desperate. "I'm going to go with me," he breathed. "Yep. Definitely me. I am one lucky—"

Bucky cut him off with a kiss. He could admit that he was surprised that Tony hadn't gone for the arm. Much like the arc reactor, there was a lot of scarring around the metal port to which the arm was attached, making it pretty difficult to _miss_ , but Tony didn't try to touch it. Not that Bucky would have been angry if Tony had made an attempt, but he wasn't really in the mood for it either.

Tony seemed sufficiently distracted by the kiss, his hands wandering over Bucky's skin as if he was trying to memorize each little dip and curve through touch alone. When he reached the scars on Bucky's shoulder he didn't shy away, but he didn't lavish them with the same attention either — probably because he assumed it might make Bucky uncomfortable.

The arc reactor was humming away between them, its light just a hint of brightness on the other side of Bucky's closed eyelids. He had expected it to be cold — like his arm sometimes got — but when he pressed close enough to feel the reactor against his chest it was more or less the same temperature as Tony, perhaps even a little warmer. Bucky decided that he liked it, pleased to feel the reactor so close to his own heart.

Heat was spreading under his skin, making him push down and roll their hips together. Tony arched up to meet the movement, his fingers sliding along Bucky's back, leaving tingling trails of pleasure in their wake.

"Yeah, just like that," Tony gasped against Bucky's lips before throwing his head back to draw a deep, trembling breath. Bucky seized the opportunity to move on to Tony's neck, pressing kisses against the rapidly beating pulse he found there. He nipped up along Tony's throat, which earned him a lovely little moan. "Shit. Yeah, that's good. "

Tony sounded delightfully unaware of what was coming out of his mouth.

"I should not be this e-eager," Tony said, the words wavering slightly when Bucky ground down against him. "I feel like a teenager again. Not that I was doing this with any sixty-six-year-olds when I was a teenager, but—"

"Are you _tryin'_ to make me stop, darling?" Bucky drawled in Tony's ear.

"Uh, nope. Don't mind me. Keep going." Tony squeezed Bucky's arm. "You were doing really well. Amazingly well, in fact."

Bucky couldn't help that he chuckled at Tony's ramblings. He pressed a quick kiss just below Tony's ear before pushing up again, gratified by the way Tony reached for him the moment he pulled back.

"No, no! Come back, I was—" Tony sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing back his words when Bucky slipped Tony's pants downwards. It wasn't more than an inch but the implication was quite clear. His thumb stroked along Tony's hipbone and Bucky smiled when Tony immediately moved to meet the touch with a roll of his hips.

"Okay," Tony agreed, "let's do that instead. Great initiative. You have the best plans, James. The best plans."

Tony apparently liked to call him James when he was sincere — Bucky found he didn't mind.

With permission given Bucky set about removing Tony's pants, not the least bit surprised to find that Tony wasn't wearing any underwear. Again, Bucky found he didn't mind. He didn't protest when Tony reached out to return the favor, either. Tony's eagerness to touch made the joint effort of getting them naked a bit difficult, but that only made Bucky smile.

He honestly hadn't expected to be smiling so much during this.

Tony grabbed Bucky's shoulders and pulled him down as soon as their clothing was out of the way, initiating another one of those deep, burning kisses. Everything felt so much more intense when Bucky could feel their skin sliding together, his hard cock right next to Tony's. Bucky couldn't help losing himself in the sensations — the taste of Tony on his lips, the slight scratch from Tony's beard, and the positively sinful way Tony moved underneath him. It didn't take long before Bucky's breaths were getting uneven, his heart thundering in his chest.

"I take it we're low on supplies," Tony mumbled in between kisses, his fingers stroking along Bucky's jaw before heading down towards his collarbone.

"Yeah, sorry." Not that Bucky knew why he was apologizing — he'd had no idea he'd find himself in this position when he set out for his mission. Before that, Winter had been in charge of stocking up supplies on the ship and he certainly had no reason to want lube.

Tony only grinned, bright and happy. "Come now, Buckling, we're going to have a wonderful time either way."

Bucky had no trouble believing that, feeling the brief flicker of tension ease.

Tony reached up to peck Bucky's cheek, of all things, before pressing small, thoughtful kisses against his jaw. His hands were wandering lower, however, to much less innocent areas. Tony let out a delighted hum when he inevitably found Bucky's cock, his fingers trailing along the shaft. The touch made Bucky hiss from pleasure.

"You are perfection," Tony mumbled, placing a kiss on Bucky's left arm, which was braced against the bed next to Tony's head. "Every single part of you."

Bucky couldn't help faltering. He wasn't sure if it was the words or Tony's kiss, but he hadn't expected either. When Tony's gaze met Bucky's those big, brown eyes of his were dark with desire, but also warm with fondness and honesty. Bucky struggled to swallow down the emotions that pushed against his ribcage, making his throat seize up.

Perfection was too strong a word to use in Bucky's opinion — for more than one reason, most of them related to what had happened to him while in HYDRA's hands — but he couldn't tell Tony not to. As much as Bucky _wanted_ to argue, it wouldn't make any difference. If Tony thought that Bucky was perfect, despite what he'd been through, Bucky wasn't going to be able to change his mind.

He wasn't sure if _anyone_ could make Tony change his mind.

The only thing Bucky could do was to lean down and kiss Tony again. It was not nearly enough to show his gratefulness, but it was all he could offer at the moment.

The kiss deepened within a matter of seconds, Tony's hand picking up where it had left off, wrapping around Bucky's length to give it a slow, firm stroke. The feeling of Tony's callused fingers around his cock made Bucky's hips snap forward, showing his eagerness.

It wasn't just that Bucky hadn't been with anyone for almost four decades, it was because of Tony — that hint of coconut and the hum of the arc reactor. Tony made this into something Bucky wanted to treasure and enjoy to the fullest.

And he wanted _Tony_ to enjoy it to the fullest.

With anyone else Bucky might have hesitated before shifting his weight onto his right arm, freeing his left to reach down between them. This was Tony, however, and he had made it abundantly clear just how much he appreciated Bucky's metal arm. Bucky wasn't so opposed to his bionic limb that he couldn't use it to offer Tony an extra edge of pleasure.

Bucky moved to kiss along Tony's neck, congratulating himself on his decision when he heard the stutter in Tony's breath — and the hitching little gasp that followed. Bucky stroked Tony's cock, making sure to be mindful of his strength.

" _Oh_. That's—" Tony didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, sounding unmistakably breathless, his eyes wide with wonder and something that could only be delight. His free hand reached up to pull Bucky in for another kiss, be it a sloppy one.

Bucky didn't mind, too caught up in the moment to worry about finesse. Usually he would — he took pride in being a skilled and considerate lover — but he got the feeling that wasn't what Tony wanted. And neither did Bucky, to be honest.

He _wanted_ to lose himself to the pleasure, even if it meant his technique would be a bit lacking. He embraced the burn low in his gut and the rapid, excited beat of his own heart, too eager for the sensations not to.

He wanted to _feel_.

Their pace was still far from hurried. Their stroking hands bumped more than once, uncoordinated and out of synch with each other, but neither of them seemed to mind. Pre-come eased the way, their groans of pleasure and gasping breaths echoing in Bucky's cabin. The hum of the arc reactor seemed to resonate within Bucky, his lips tingling when he kissed Tony, deep and needy. He moved with every stroke of Tony's hand, desperately searching for more pleasure.

When Tony moved to take them both in hand Bucky complied, shifting to rest his weight on his knees and elbows instead. They were pressed close, almost to the point where it hindered Tony's movements, but Bucky couldn't bear to pull further away. The feeling of their cocks rubbing together — the sensations heightened by Tony's firm grip — made Bucky's breath falter.

He lavished Tony's neck with kisses and reveled in the sounds Tony was making — the soft, breathless words of praise he whispered in Bucky's ear. Warmth was pooling at the base of Bucky's spine, his skin burning from ecstasy.

Tony nuzzled against Bucky's hand — his right one, this time — and before Bucky knew it his thumb was stroking against Tony's lips. They parted without hesitation, closing around Bucky's finger. Tony's cheeks hollowed when he sucked, derailing Bucky's thought to what else he would like to see Tony wrap his lips around. Now was not the time for that, however, no matter how tempting the imagery was. Tony's hand was more than enough, each stroke sending a jolt of pleasure through Bucky.

Tony's pace quickened, the slight elevation of his breath telling Bucky that he had to be close. Bucky was too, his heartbeat echoing in his ears and limbs trembling. He could feel the building pressure, chasing after his release while mouthing kisses against Tony's neck, his hips rolling. There was a chaotic mess of emotions gathering in Bucky's chest and he embraced them all, gasping from the intensity.

Without thinking Bucky let out a trembling breath against the shell of Tony's hear, his left hand tangling in those dark curls and soft words spilling from his lips.

"You're amazing." Bucky could barely keep his voice stable. "You are so beautiful, sweetheart. So incredibly beautiful."

Bucky hadn't expected that to be what pushed Tony over the edge. There was a sharp intake of breath and a soft, surprised little gasp as Tony came, shaking in Bucky's arms. That sound, more than anything, was what made Bucky follow suit a second later. White-hot bliss overwhelmed him, his release spreading a warm, comforting hum throughout his body.

His breaths were shallow and uneven and it took him a moment before he was able to move, shifting to lie on the bed next to Tony. Their legs were still tangled but at least Bucky wasn't crushing Tony under his weight. Not that Tony would have noticed — he looked about as out of it as Bucky felt.

They were sticky with come, heartbeats racing and sweat clinging to their skin, but somehow Bucky felt better than he had in years. Not just because of the fantastic sex, but the fact that Tony turned his head and looked at him with hooded eyes, a slow, happy smile spreading on his lips. Once again there was that shyness to it — as if Tony wasn't sure what to do with the attention he was getting.

Bucky reached out, the back of his fingers stroking along Tony's cheek. Tony had never looked more beautiful with his ruffled hair and flushed skin, his eyes tired but satisfied.

There were a lot of things they should be doing — like clean up or get out of bed and eat breakfast — but Bucky couldn't bring himself to move, at least not beyond pulling Tony in for a soft, lazy kiss. Tony hummed and pushed closer.

Bucky complied, wrapping his arm around Tony's shoulders when he ducked in under Bucky's chin, obviously having no intention of getting up. Tony's nose nudged against Bucky's chest, breaths tickling against his skin. The sigh Tony let out made him sound achingly young. Bucky had to admit that he was surprised by how vulnerable Tony allowed himself to be, since he usually wouldn't.

Then again, Tony had been under a lot of stress lately what with losing JARVIS and his workshop, and had definitely not been getting enough sleep these past couple of days. This might very well be the closest Tony had come to letting go since they left Knowhere.

Tony was beginning to relax, turning boneless and pliant in Bucky's arms. As little as Bucky was looking forward to being covered in dried come, he didn't have the heart to deny Tony this brief reprieve. Tony needed all the rest he could get.

"Can I keep you?" Tony mumbled, lips brushing against Bucky's bare chest. He seemed barely aware of having said the words, his voice so soft and innocent that Bucky forgot how to breathe. He knew better than to think of Tony as frail, but he was definitely vulnerable, especially when it came to emotions and his sense of self-worth.

Bucky closed his eyes, fingers threading through Tony's hair, brushing it aside so that he could press a kiss to his forehead. "Of course, sweetheart. Of course you can."

He wasn't sure for how long — or if Tony was even being serious — but if that was what Tony wanted, Bucky would stay with him for as long as possible.

"Thank you."

Hearing Tony's relieved gratefulness only made it worse — as if he had expected to be rejected or laughed at. Bucky's chest ached and he couldn't help pulling Tony closer, wrapping him up in his arms and holding him as tight as he dared. He buried his face in Tony's hair, breathing in the scent of him while trying to push down the lump in his throat.

How someone as incredible as Tony could ever doubt his worth made no sense to Bucky, but he vowed, then and there, that he would do his best to prove Tony wrong. He would make Tony see just how amazing he was, no matter how long it might take.

"Anything, Tony," he whispered. "Anything you need."

Tony hummed and snuggled closer, clearly half-asleep already. Bucky allowed himself to relax, comforted by the way Tony sought his warmth.

Bucky would make Tony see just how loved he was, if it so was the last thing he did.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write sex scenes often and this is really the only kind I know how to write. Sort of cute, intimate, and caring sex. Still, I think it fits the story, so I hope you enjoyed it, my lovelies!
> 
> You have NO idea how much fun I had with Tony sucking on Bucky's finger.
> 
> The plot will return in the next chapter — I just can't write short sex scenes so it got its own chapter. But I'm pretty sure you're not complaining, right?


	10. The Mistake

 

* * *

 

Bucky hadn't been aware of how desperately he craved physical contact until it was given to him whenever he wanted.

He had always been tactile. When Steve was still a head shorter than Bucky he'd had a habit of wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders, ruffling his hair or giving him playful nudges. They had shared beds on many cold nights to conserve body heat — for Steve's sake more than Bucky's — and even after Project Rebirth it had sometimes been necessary due to a shortage of bunks. Bucky had welcomed it for the comfort it offered, just as he welcomed the shoulder bumps and grounding hugs. Bucky _liked_ physical contact.

When Winter took over, all of that stopped. The main reason was of course that Steve was no longer around, and the fact that HYDRA didn't breed their soldiers to be friendly — not with each other or their enemies. Winter hadn't known that touching other people for comfort was even an option.

Winter's first hug had been when Bucky clung to Steve, just after having fought his way to the surface, sobbing from panic and desperation. Neither of them had been in a position to truly appreciate it. Nonetheless, that had been Winter's first experience with physical contact that wasn't meant to harm or given because they needed medical attention. Back then, he hadn't seemed to like it.

That changed when Tony came into the picture.

Part of that was Bucky's fault, he supposed, since he was the one in control — Winter couldn't keep him from touching Tony and he was bound to grow accustomed to it eventually. But Winter didn't seem to mind, truth be told. He might even be enjoying it as much as Bucky did, purring contentedly whenever Tony was within physical reach — which was often.

Bucky touched Tony a lot. He loved to slide his arms around Tony's waist from behind and bury his face against Tony's neck, breathing in the scent of him. Tony never objected since his hands were still free to work on whatever repairs he was busy with at the moment. They had to look pretty ridiculous, Bucky knew, with him clinging to Tony while he worked, but Bucky liked it too much to care. Besides, Tony always leaned into the touch, angling his head to give Bucky more room while humming contentedly.

He seemed to need the closeness just as much as Bucky did.

They slept in Bucky's bed the coming nights. The weight of another person next to him was a comfort, but Bucky still startled awake from the occasional nightmare. Tony never asked him about them even if he always woke when Bucky did, usually choosing to lie in silence and wait for Bucky to decide what he wanted to do. More often than not, Bucky reached for Tony and pulled him close with shaking hands. He was afraid of squeezing too hard, but being able to bury his nose in Tony's hair and feel Tony's warmth against his own skin helped ground him.

Tony always came willingly and never seemed frustrated over getting woken up on a semi-regular basis. Tony probably slept more than he would have on his own anyway, surprisingly eager to go to bed now that he had someone to share it with. Bucky didn't mind and decided not to question it.

Tony was carefree and affectionate, even if neither of them had forgotten who was hunting them. They weren't safe yet and there was no telling what would happen when they met up with Steve. Bucky still clung to the hope that Tony wouldn't choose to leave at the first opportunity he got, but didn't dare to ask.

They existed in a bubble, far away from everyone else. Space was lonely on any given day, but they were more isolated than most. The only company they had was each other and they chose to embrace that to the fullest. The amount of security and comfort they found in each other might have seemed desperate to some, but Bucky knew it was more than that.

He could see it in the way Tony let his guard down and smiled at him, so wide his entire face lit up. Or in the way Bucky's breath caught at the sight of Tony's sleepy face and tousled hair when they woke up next to each other. Or just how often they reached for each other, only to find that the other was already meeting them halfway.

 

 

Bucky _loved_ those quiet days with Tony, not only because they made him relax in a way that he hadn't in years, but because he was given time to explore every inch of Tony's skin and find out what he looked like in the mornings, smiling and sleep-drunk. Bucky now knew what sounds Tony made when he was just about to come, and he found out that Tony could pick apart and reassemble every single one of the guns Bucky had on the ship. He had no idea where Tony had learned how to dismantle weapons — Tony wasn't a soldier — but the confident, fluent way Tony's hands moved had managed to get Bucky quite aroused.

And that was how Bucky found out that Tony _really_ appreciated just how long Bucky could hold his breath.

There was just so much to learn about Tony, and while he still didn't talk about who he was or where he came from, he didn't hide the rest. Like how insanely grumpy he got if he wasn't given caffeine, or how his music was so loud not because he actually liked it that way, but because it drowned out distractions. Or that he still forgot to wear shoes sometimes, simply because it had become habit not to wear them.

There were so many small details that made up who Tony was as a person and for those few, precious days Bucky got to learn more and more about him. The sex and intimacy was amazing — Bucky reveled in it — but what he appreciated the most was being able to really see who Tony was. They got to know each other in a way Bucky was pretty sure Tony rarely managed, if his reverent looks and touches were anything to go by.

Bucky loved it. He _prayed_ that he would get to keep it for as long as possible.

They were two days away from the rendezvous point by then and well within the Alliance's territory. HYDRA might still be searching for them, but would hopefully know better than to attack them so close to civilization.

Bucky should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

Bucky startled awake to the sound of Winter screaming inside his head. For a second, all he could do was groan and press his hands to his temples, trying to shut out the noise and overwhelming flood of _alarm_ and _urgency_ and _fear_.

Winter was rarely afraid.

Bucky was able to suck in a sharp breath, his thoughts tumbling over themselves in their haste to make sense of what was happening. Tony stirred next to him, blinking blearily in the dark room, lit only by the soft glow of the arc reactor.

A shudder ran through the ship — so subtle that Bucky wouldn't have noticed if Winter hadn't woken him up.

That couldn't be good.

Bucky hurriedly climbed over Tony to get out of bed, stopping to pull on some pants.

"Where you goin'?" Tony slurred, clearly not firing on all cylinders just yet.

"Something's wrong," Bucky bit out, forgoing shoes in favor of darting for the door. "Winter woke me up."

The door slid open on his command and he quickly pushed the button to turn on the lights, ignoring the pained noise that drew from Tony. To his credit, Tony was rolling out of bed as well, albeit less gracefully than Bucky had.

"I'll be at the bridge," Bucky called over his shoulder as he jogged through the ship. Winter wasn't screaming anymore but he was unmistakably restless — agitated and worried in a way he hadn't been since HYDRA attacked the workshop.

That alone was enough to make dread slither through Bucky's veins. They were less than two days away from meeting with Steve. They were so close.

The computer screens were lit when Bucky reached the bridge — which they sure as hell shouldn't be — while another one of those subtle shudders went through the ship. Bucky slid into his seat and pulled up the command window, only to find that someone else was controlling the computer.

For a second he could do nothing but stare in incomprehension, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing.

Someone else was controlling the ship, shutting down the engines one by one.

"No. No, no, no," Bucky pleaded, his breath caught in his throat. He pushed several buttons in an attempt to stop the shut-down but nothing happened. The computer wasn't responding to his commands.

Someone was controlling the ship remotely. There was only one type of system that could do that — one system that the ship was compatible with that could override manual handling.

"Fucking hell." Bucky ran his hands through his hair before slamming his metal fist down onto the main console, causing a sizeable dent. " _Shit_!"

"That doesn't sound good," Tony said as he sat down in the seat next to Bucky's, looking wide-awake despite the disarray his hair was in. Tony, much like Bucky, reached for the controls, only to freeze when he realized they were moving without anyone touching them.

Tony's gaze snapped to Bucky. "What's going on?"

"Remote control." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face, not knowing whether to scream or start panicking. His heart was racing, the beats almost loud enough to drown out Winter's discomfort. "It's a fail-safe all HYDRA ships have in case the soldiers die or can't be given orders to return to base. They just... take control from one of the bigger ships."

A beat of silence.

"They've caught up," Tony said.

It wasn't a question.

"I shut it off," Bucky bit out, leaning his elbows against the main console, hands clenching in his hair. He tried to sort through his thoughts, to figure out their options and how to escape — but he could barely breathe, let alone strategize. "They shouldn't have been able to access the ship remotely. I _know_ I shut it off. "

The ship was slowing down, floating peacefully in space, the soft hum of the engines having silenced completely. The HYDRA ship had to be close if they were within in range to take control of the system. Bucky knew they couldn't fight it — remote control meant complete control. The computer wouldn't react to his or Tony's commands and HYDRA was only minutes away.

Bile was rising at the back of Bucky's throat.

"I didn't turn it back on if that's what you're implying," Tony said, voice tight. "I left the settings as they were."

"Then _how_?" Bucky knew it didn't help to get angry at Tony. He just felt so frustrated and useless, barely managing to hold back the growing panic — hearing Winter whine from distress only made matters worse.

There was nothing they could do but sit there and wait for HYDRA to come and collect them. And once they had, well, Bucky didn't even want to think about that. Everything would have been in vain — the suffering and the anxiety, Tony losing JARVIS and his workshop.

Bucky was _so close_ to finishing his mission.

"I don't know!" Tony shot back. He was trying to regain manual control despite how futile an effort that was. Tony's voice was sharp and angry. "I did upgrades, yes, but didn't remove any of the older software or settings. The only time I—"

He fell silent so abruptly that Bucky looked up. Tony's face was pale, his eyes staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

"The linkup," he mumbled. "I allowed JARVIS to link up. I disabled it again just outside of Knowhere but the channel was open for a couple of minutes. They could've—" Tony swallowed before starting over, his voice low. "They could have synced up and planted a command inside the code that I didn't catch. One that made the remote control software turn back on or sent them a signal to track or... anything. They couldn't detect us with the stealth mode on, but if the systems are meant to connect they didn't need to." Tony shook his head. "I... I didn't know."

There was so much regret and desperation in those last couple of words. Bucky wished he could have told Tony that everything would be fine — they would manage — but both of them knew that was a lie. HYDRA was coming and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

If Tony was right, HYDRA must have bided their time for days, probably because they wanted to see where Bucky was going. Now, when it had to be obvious that he was heading for the Alliance, HYDRA decided to intervene and reel him back in.

He'd been so close.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath while trying to think beyond the growing fear. They didn't have time to argue about _how_ this had happened — the only thing that mattered was how they chose to handle what came next.

There were much more important matters they needed to address.

"Maybe I can reboot the system. That should give me a second to—"

"Tony."

"I can fix this," Tony snapped, but there was an edge of desperation to his voice that neither of them could ignore.

"Tony, stop." Bucky turned his chair, placing a hand on Tony's arm.

Never before had Tony flinched from his touch, but he did so now — almost as if he had expected it to hurt. His eyes were wide and startled, full of guilt and fear. Seeing that look on Tony's face felt like a punch in the gut, even if Bucky knew that he wasn't the one Tony was afraid of.

"They're probably only minutes away," Bucky said, surprised when his voice didn't crack. "There's nothing you can do."

"Bullshit." Tony's jaw clenched, his gaze returning to the main console.

Bucky gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Tony, look at me."

It took a second, but eventually he did. There was defiance in Tony's eyes, overpowering the panic brewing underneath. Bucky couldn't help smiling at the sight; Tony clearly wasn't the kind of person who gave up, even when the odds were against him.

Bucky reached out, his thumb stroking Tony's cheek. "They're coming, Tony."

"I know."

Tony was wearing Bucky's shirt. Not just one that Tony had borrowed, but the very same t-shirt Bucky had worn the day before. Tony had probably grabbed whatever he could in his haste to get dressed, not thinking much of it, but Bucky did. Somehow, that small detail made all the difference — it made the pain in his chest grow to unbearable levels, because he knew what he had to do next.

After a deep breath Bucky reached for the gun they had taken to storing on top of the main console, holding it loosely in his hand. He swallowed, struggling to find the strength he needed to form words.

"You know what will happen when they catch us." He forced himself to meet Tony's gaze. "It's not a cyanide pill... but the choice should be yours."

Tony's eyes widened in horror, flicking down to stare at the gun in Bucky's hand. The silence hung thick and heavy in the air, an almost shocking contrast to how Winter was screaming inside Bucky's head. Winter clearly didn't understand why anyone would choose death and the thought of _Tony_ doing so had him howling in outrage. Bucky ignored Winter rather than pushing him aside, not wanting to give him a reason to lash out.

Bucky's throat was so tight he was barely able to speak. "I won't think less of you. I would understand."

Being assimilated was a fate most people feared and Bucky, if anyone, knew how agonizing the process was. He never wanted Tony to go through what he had, and Bucky wouldn't blame Tony if he wanted to take the easy way out — a part of him even _hoped_ he would, since that way he wouldn't be in pain.

Bucky never wanted to see Tony suffer, or to be forced to watch his eyes become dull and hollow like the rest of the HYDRA soldiers'. Tony was meant for so much more — he was so vibrant and full of life and Bucky never wanted to see that fire of his extinguished.

"And what if I can't?" Tony asked, voice frighteningly even. "If I can't pull the trigger, will you help me? Will you kill me, James, to save me from HYDRA?"

"If I have to," Bucky croaked, but he wasn't able to meet Tony's gaze.

Could he really? Was he prepared to have Tony's death on his conscience? Would Bucky be able to kill someone who was so precious to him that he couldn't even put it into words? Even if it was to save Tony indescribable pain? Could Bucky kill him?

"It doesn't look like you'd be able to, even if I asked," Tony remarked, his tone softer now.

"Winter could — if you ordered him to." Bucky was grasping for straws, regretting the words the moment he had said them out loud. They couldn't do that to Winter. It was possible, sure, because Winter followed orders in a way Bucky didn't, but the way Winter snarled in anger, thrashing inside Bucky's head, showed just how unhappy he was at the prospect of hurting Tony.

"You don't mean that," Tony said, a hint of reprimand in his voice. "And _I'm_ not going to force anyone to kill me — least of all someone who doesn't have a choice to refuse the order."

There was a beat of silence before Tony turned his chair to face Bucky, his hand landing on top of the gun, gently pushing it away.

"I'm not ready to die either, James, and certainly not by your hand."

"They'll hurt you." Bucky's voice was so close to breaking that he could feel it waver.

"I'm used to it," Tony replied with a nonchalant shrug, which only made Bucky feel worse. He grimaced, pressing his lips together to hold back a pained noise. Immediately, Tony reached out, his hands framing Bucky's face. "Hey. Hey, hey, hey. No, Bucky, don't—" He moved closer, resting their foreheads together. "It'll be fine. We'll figure something out, I promise. I fix things, remember? I'll fix this. We'll think of something."

There was desperation in Tony's words, but his determination was comforting. Tony hadn't given up yet.

"I don't want you to become one of them." Bucky whispered, eyes closing. He couldn't help soaking up the intimacy, the smell of Tony's warm skin soothing his frayed nerves. "I can't— the thought of you as one of those lifeless shells..."

Tony cleared his throat, pulling back slightly. When his hands lowered Bucky looked up, feeling a sting of concern when he saw the worry in Tony's eyes.

"Is this a good time to mention my Rebirth Serum score?" Tony asked tentatively.

"What?" Bucky frowned in confusion.

"Well, given the theory that the less compatible you are with the Rebirth Serum, the more compatible you are with the HYDRA virus, I think we should take it into consideration." Tony leaned back in his chair and tucked his hands into his armpits, probably in an effort to keep them as motionless as possible. He looked uncomfortable — defensive, almost. "Especially since the more compatible you are with the virus, the more enhanced you become."

Dread was rising inside Bucky.

"Tony, what—"

"Twenty-seven percent," Tony blurted out, as if he just wanted to get it over with. Bucky couldn't help recoiling, staring at Tony with wide eyes. That was close to Bucky's own score — so far below average that one got suspicious, pitying looks from those around you. If those theories Tony told him about were true, that meant that Tony would end up like Bucky rather than the regular soldiers. He'd become enhanced and most likely host for one of the stronger parasites.

Tony let out a strained chuckle, his gaze averted. "At least your reaction is better than my dad's. After he tested my Rebirth Serum score he did a DNA test too, just to make sure I was really his. I guess he thought I might be a HYDRA plant, even at the tender age of five." Tony paused, pursing his lips. "Come to think of it, I would probably have been less of a disappointment to him if I had been..."

Those words hurt in ways Bucky hadn't been prepared for. Tony's own father had tested him for the Rebirth Serum? When he was still just a boy? Bucky couldn't fathom why that had been necessary — the serum couldn't be injected into someone so young, not without risking serious complications.

"Tony—"

"Point is," Tony said, loudly enough to drown out what Bucky intended to say, "if they assimilate me, odds are I'll come out pretty fucking nasty on the other end." Finally, Tony met Bucky's gaze, but his own was guarded and wary. "I thought you might want to know."

Bucky had no idea what to reply. He wasn't sure if this information made the situation better or worse.

Tony, unsurprisingly, quickly changed the subject. "So, I guess this means we're getting captured. Any plans?"

That was a very good question. Bucky was fairly certain that HYDRA didn't want them dead, otherwise they would have just blown the ship up rather than have the engines shut down. They were no doubt going to be forced to dock with the bigger HYDRA ship within the next couple of minutes. Once there, their odds of escaping were depressingly low.

"They don't know you're here," Bucky said, staring down at the gun still in his hand.

That meant a small element of surprise, but whether or not it would help was another thing. They had to come up with a plan as quickly as possible, but they didn't have a lot to work with.

"Priority number one is reclaiming the ship, I'm guessing? Without that we can't escape and, considering the size of their army, fleeing is really the only thing we _can_ do." Tony turned back to look down at the screens on the main console. "I wasn't joking about rebooting the computer, by the way."

"You think that would work?"

"I would have to find whatever command they added and remove it." Tony pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. "But yeah, I think so. If I do it at the right moment."

"And that would be?" Bucky asked, knowing that he probably wouldn't like the answer.

"My guess? When we've docked, because then they won't be monitoring us as closely and won't be as quick to reestablish contact."

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"So we have to let them catch us." That was the complete opposite of what he wanted. He placed the gun pack onto the main console before glancing out at the stars.

The view felt a whole lot less comforting now.

"How much time do you need?" Bucky asked, pushing down the surge of helplessness.

Tony shrugged. "Two, three minutes, maybe?"

"So if I distract whatever welcoming party they send, you'll fix the ship and then we flee?"

"Theoretically," Tony replied. "But there are several flaws in that plan. Like how do you intend to distract them? You can't fight an entire army, Bucky, no matter how enhanced you are."

"Who said I was going to fight them?"

Tony frowned. "What? You think you can fool them that you're Winter again?" He shook his head. "Hate to break it to you, Buckling, but they're bound to be on to you by now. They might not know exactly what happened to make you go rogue, but they're not going to trust you. Especially since you've stolen a whole drive worth of sensitive information from them."  


"Do you have any better ideas?" Bucky snapped, not proud over how confrontational he sounded. This wasn't Tony's fault, Bucky knew that, and shouting would only make things worse.

Tony quickly averted his gaze, his shoulders hunching in a way that was uncharacteristic for someone so confident. He didn't look confident now, though, carefully angling himself away from Bucky. There was guilt in his eyes, but whatever for Bucky wasn't certain.

"No, I guess I don't," Tony said, his voice flat. He was staring down at the computer screen, jaw tightly clenched and fingers drumming restlessly against the armrest.

He stopped when Bucky placed his hand over Tony's.

"I just need to stall them for three minutes," Bucky said, careful to speak softer this time. "I should be able to manage that."

Tony gritted his teeth. "And what if you don't? Or what if three minutes isn't enough?"

"Then we improvise." There were certainly better and more detailed plans they could make, but neither of them knew for sure what they would be facing when HYDRA came.

Tony let out a frustrated noise and pushed a hand through his hair, his movements sharp and angry. When he looked at Bucky his gaze was full of worry. Bucky decided to keep talking, if only to stop Tony from having to do so.

"You stay here, out of sight, and try to get the ship back online while I distract whoever is sent to collect me." Bucky laced their fingers together.

"What about the drive?" Tony asked.

Bucky hesitated, glancing at the right-hand console. HYDRA would no doubt want the drive back but Bucky wasn't willing to just hand it over — not considering what it had cost him to get it.

"Hide it," he replied. "After I've left."

That way Winter couldn't be ordered to reveal where it was. Then again, if they reached the point where Winter made an appearance, they had already lost.

Tony nodded in confirmation but he looked far from happy.

"We'll be fine," Bucky said, squeezing Tony's hand.

Tony sighed, leaning his head back against the seat's headrest.

"You know we won't be, James."

The smile on Bucky's lips felt strained. "We will. We'll find a way."

Bucky refused to admit that he might be lying. The situation was grim, yes, but he couldn't give up now — not two days away from meeting Steve and with Tony's life hanging in the balance. They would solve this somehow.

"Well," Tony said, giving Bucky a faint smile in return, "you better go get dressed in that case. I mean, _I_ don't mind, but I think HYDRA might find your attire somewhat lacking."

Bucky had to agree that facing HYDRA with nothing but a pair of pants was probably unwise. He still lingered, coaxing Tony to meet his gaze with a gentle tug on their entwined hands.

"Don't fight them," Bucky urged. "If they find you, they won't kill you unless you put up too much resistance."

Tony pursed his lips. "Lovely."

"And don't react to whatever they do to me."

At that, Tony blinked, turning to face Bucky with a worried crease between his eyebrows.

"What? You can't—"

"If we get captured they will punish me somehow," Bucky interrupted. "Hopefully when you're not watching, but I can't make promises."

"I'm beginning to reevaluate the shot-to-the-head option," Tony deadpanned, his jaws tightly clenched.

Bucky knew Tony was just joking but he still felt a pang of fear. He stroked his thumb along Tony's knuckles, smiling weakly. "Please don't."

As much as Bucky didn't want to see Tony in the hands of HYDRA, he didn't want to see him dead either. Bucky couldn't deny that he was terrified — the very thought of being on one of HYDRA's ships again made him shiver from discomfort — but he just couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close. Not when Tony needed him.

Winter wasn't prepared to give up either, it seemed, growling fiercely at the back of Bucky's head.

Bucky got to his feet, not letting go of Tony's hand just yet.

"We'll be fine," he said again, even if he suspected that the more he repeated it, the less Tony would believe him. Bucky wasn't even sure if _he_ believed it.

There was doubt in Tony's eyes but he hadn't given up yet, and he seemed willing to go along with the plan — not that they had much choice. Bucky leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tony's forehead before running his free hand through that wild mess of hair.

"You prepare as much as you can while I gear up."

Tony nodded, but instead of letting go reached up to place his hands on Bucky's shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. His fingers were slightly colder than Bucky's bare skin and there was a hint of desperation to the kiss, perhaps because it might very well be the last one they shared.

Tony's eyes were dark pools when they pulled apart, full of anxious concern. "Just be careful." He swallowed tightly. "I'm sorry. For causing this. I should've—"

"Tony, no." Bucky knelt in front of him, his hands settling on Tony's arms to keep them both grounded. Tony's fingers twitched against Bucky's shoulders but he didn't pull back. He did open his mouth, however, probably to protest, so Bucky made sure to speak before he did. "Tony, sweetheart, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"If I hadn't—"

"It doesn't matter," Bucky interrupted, a little more firmly than he had intended. It had the desired effect, however, with Tony closing his mouth again. He also averted his gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. Bucky couldn't stand for that. "Darling, look at me."

Despite his obvious reluctance, Tony obeyed. Bucky made sure to smile, gently bumping their foreheads together.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, ignoring the anxious skip of his heartbeat. It was risky to ask that kind of question, even more so when you were in Bucky's position — a part of him wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear Tony's reply.

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Tony's voice, though. "Yes."

Bucky let out a soft breath, his hands sliding up along Tony's forearms to twine their fingers together. Their joined hands rested on Bucky's shoulders.

"Then trust me when I say that it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

Tony _hadn't_ known. If Bucky had explained who was after him and how his ship was programmed then surely Tony would have been more careful, but he couldn't be expected to know about things Bucky hadn't told him. It was a mistake, pure and simple, but Bucky had no intention of blaming Tony for it. They wouldn't even have made it out of Knowhere if it hadn't been for Tony and the stealth function he had added.

It seemed like Tony might have planned to reply, but a shudder went through the ship, followed by a cheerful beep from the main console. Both of them looked at the screens, knowing all too well what that sound meant — even without the slight tug pulling the ship backwards.

The HYDRA ship had caught up with them and were forcing them to dock.

"You better hurry," Tony said, giving Bucky a quick kiss.

Bucky nodded and reluctantly got to his feet. Tony's hands slipped from his shoulders but Bucky held on, long enough to give Tony's fingers a comforting squeeze. Only after Tony had given him a trembling smile in return did Bucky turn and hurry back towards his cabin.

Getting dressed didn't take long but his stomach was clenching from nerves the entire time. Bucky assumed they would be directed to one of the hangars rather than the smaller landing docks, since that would mean more space for the welcoming party. The hangars were also more difficult to flee from since the doors took longer to open.

Slipping in the black little earpiece after so long made Bucky shudder. Even Winter seemed to dislike the mask when it unfolded, covering the lower half of their face. It had always felt more like a muzzle than anything else — as if Bucky and Winter were some kind of feral animal HYDRA had to contain.

Bucky was almost happy when he remembered that he had lost the goggles somewhere in Tony's workshop.

He hesitated before arming himself. Bucky would say that stepping out of the ship loaded with weapons was a sign of aggression, but he knew that Winter wouldn't have thought twice. Winter was _always_ armed, unless the handlers and officers told him to disarm. If Bucky walked out there without weapons HYDRA would know something was wrong.

Another tremble went through the ship when Bucky was on his way back to the bridge, alerting him that they had landed. He had at most two minutes to lower the ramp and emerge before HYDRA would barge in and get him.

Tony looked up when Bucky entered the bridge, swallowing noticeably at the sight of him. Bucky hoped it was because of the outfit and mask — the reminder of who and what Bucky was — rather than outright fear.

Bucky wasn't sure what he would do if it turned out Tony was afraid of him.

That didn't seem to be the case, however, when Tony rose from his chair and went to meet him, hands reaching up to frame Bucky's face. Bucky couldn't feel it since the mask was in the way, but knowing Tony wanted to touch him was comforting in itself.

"Be careful," Tony repeated, his eyes wide and dark with fear, even in the light of the arc reactor. "Both of you. Just... be careful."

Winter growled, but not in anger. He seemed determined, if anything, which Bucky chose to take as Winter agreeing.

"We will," he said, no matter how awkward it felt to be speaking for the both of them.

Tony nodded before standing on tiptoes in order to press a fleeting kiss against the cold metal of the mask.

"Go get 'em, soldier."

Had this been a couple of weeks ago Bucky might have flinched at being called that — Winter had often been referred to as the Soldier — but now he merely smiled.

"Will do, doll." Bucky took a step back, even if he hated to move out of Tony's reach. "Keep your head down."

Tony was already heading back towards his chair, but he did offer a sloppy salute in reply. Bucky turned to leave before he could give himself a reason to stay.

There was no telling what would await him once he pressed the button to lower the ramp but Bucky didn't allow himself to hesitate. Tony's crates were lying on the floor just a couple of feet away and Bucky hoped no one would demand to know what they contained. _He_ still wasn't sure what was inside, but he bet Tony wouldn't be happy if HYDRA tried to rifle through them.

Bucky straightened his spine when the ramp started lowering, schooling his features into the blank, expressionless mask Winter usually wore. He knew Tony was right — HYDRA probably wouldn't trust him completely — but if he was lucky they would suspect a glitch in the programming rather than a complete personality switch.

The ramp continued to lower, revealing the inside of one of the docking hangars, as Bucky had suspected. The first couple of soldiers came within view soon after that and Bucky forced himself not to stiffen. He counted ten soldiers, although none had their guns raised, which he supposed was a good sign. At the very front of the welcoming party stood one of the captains, hands behind her back and a stern look on her face. She was the biggest threat, simply because she wasn't one of the assimilated soldiers and therefore able to make her own decisions — and to catch the inconsistencies in Bucky's behavior.

The moment the ramp had settled with a hollow _clunk_ Bucky was marching forward, knowing that Winter wouldn't have hesitated. He took two steps away from the ramp before he stopped, at a perfect distance from the captain — well out of physical reach, unless she decided to move closer.

Bucky fixed his gaze straight ahead, ignoring the shiver of discomfort that whispered down the back of his neck. A subtle movement in the corner of his eye told him that there were soldiers on his sides as well, but he knew he couldn't react to that — he was supposedly among allies.

The number of opponents rose to fourteen. That was still manageable, should he be forced to fight them — definitely a challenge, but not impossible.

"Asset, report," the captain barked, her expression not changing. She might actually have a better poker face than Bucky.

"A level thirteen security clearance needed," Bucky replied in a monotone. He knew that was a gamble, but it was one of the few explanations that the captain might actually buy.

Winter had occasionally been given secret missions that only the highest within HYDRA knew about. Those missions always took priority, and Winter had only been allowed to report to those with the appropriate rank. Sometimes, this included avoiding other HYDRA officers or going radio silent.

The captain narrowed her eyes. She looked frustrated rather than hostile, however.

Bucky had to struggle against the need to clench his hands. Winter was quiet, calmly observing the exchange — he seemed to know that an interruption would only make Bucky falter, which was something they couldn't afford.

Tony had hopefully gotten started on reclaiming the ship from HYDRA's clutches.

"There are no records of a mission," the captain said, her voice measured. Bucky couldn't tell if she was on to him or not — her expression revealed nothing. "And certainly none that requires a manual data transfer."

Bucky knew better than to answer — a soldier only spoke when ordered to do so — but he felt a chill down his spine when Winter growled in warning. Bucky tensed in response.

"The general has issued orders for your capture — disciplinary actions will be taken," the captain declared, voice sharp like a whip.

Bucky didn't even have time to fully feel the wave of dread before a movement in the corner of his eye made his instincts kick in, ducking to avoid the incoming projectile. He was still a fraction of a second too late, the dart catching him in the shoulder. Had it been one intended to put him to sleep he would have been fine — the needle wouldn't have pierced his armored jacket — but he wasn't that lucky.

He barely managed to remain standing when the electric current tore through him.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, his breath stuck in his throat and muscles seizing from the shocks. The virus made him more resilient than normal humans but there were limitations; even if he managed to remain conscious he couldn't move to pull out the dart.

His knees hit the metal floor, the impact jarring his bones. Another jolt had him tipping forwards. Even if he tried he was helpless to stop it. Winter was screaming inside his head, both in anger and pain. Bucky tried to fight against the involuntary spasms but there was only so much he could do. Every single one of his nerve endings were alight, agony burning through them like lightning.

Bucky's head was spinning and he gasped for breath the moment the shocks let up. He wasn't sure if seconds or minutes had passed. He was panting through the pain, his forearm braced against the hangar floor, but he still forced himself to move. He _had_ to move.

Tony wasn't safe.

HYDRA was more suspicious than Bucky had anticipated.

He had to protect Tony.

Rough hands grabbed him just as Bucky managed to push himself up onto his knees. He swallowed down an angry growl when fingers buried in his hair, forcing his head back with a painful yank. Even his super strength wasn't enough to fight against the soldiers who grabbed his hands and cuffed them behind his back, Bucky's limbs quivering from the aftershocks.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be given more time — Tony needed more time.

Bucky strained against the cuffs even if he knew that he wouldn't be able to pull free — they were designed to hold enhanced soldiers like him. The same rough hands started disarming him, one weapon at a time, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Bucky's metal arm was twitching worse than his flesh one, not following Bucky's commands.

He could taste blood in his mouth but that didn't worry him — if he'd bitten his tongue it would heal within minutes.

He was far more concerned by the soldiers marching up the ramp and disappearing into his ship. They would find Tony. They might _hurt_ Tony. Nothing was going according to plan. Even if Tony had managed to regain control of the ship Bucky wouldn't be able to give them the time they needed to flee.

The captain was eyeing him with a coolly raised eyebrow but he ignored her, trying to keep his breathing steady. Panic was building, however — both his and Winter's. They knew what would happen if they didn't manage to break free.

The sound of loud voices made Bucky stiffen and he couldn't help that his head snapped up the moment he caught a glimpse of Tony being led down the ramp. He looked disgruntled rather than frightened, his hands raised in petulant surrender. Two guns were aimed at Tony's back, pushing him forward.

Their gazes locked but Tony's face remained expressionless, thank god — Bucky had already done enough damage by looking his way.

Bucky could do nothing but watch as Tony was shepherded towards the captain. They hadn't bothered to cuff him, but Tony didn't have any weapons on him as far as Bucky knew. Not to mention that he didn't exactly look dangerous in Bucky's oversized clothes, the collar of the t-shirt slipping low enough to expose the top of one of his collarbones. The arc reactor shone through the fabric, bright and beautiful — but also impossible to miss.

Tony raised his chin in defiance when the captain approached him, his face twisted into a scornful imitation of his usual smile. The captain reached out, pulling down the collar of the t-shirt until she could see the top of the arc reactor.

"What is _that_?" she asked, sounding disgusted rather than curious.

"Built-in night light," Tony replied without missing a beat, grinning cheekily.

That earned him a swift, ruthless slap and Bucky couldn't help flinching. The only ones who noticed were the hollow-eyed soldiers holding him, thankfully enough. Tony seemed to know better than to lash out in return even if he looked insulted, rolling his jaw in response to the blow.

The captain let out a derisive snort. "Whatever it is, you're clearly too defective to assimilate."

Tony's grin was sharp. "Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

She leaned closer, but her attempt to intimidate clearly wasn't working — Tony met her gaze head on.

"It means that I can have you ripped to pieces instead," the captain snapped.

"There's more than enough of me to go around, honey — no need for dismemberment."

Bucky wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan; Tony clearly didn't have a single shred of self-preservation instinct in him.

"Asset!" the captain barked, her voice hard with barely contained anger. Bucky knew she was speaking to him — or Winter, at the very least — so he looked up. "You have new orders." She took a step back from Tony. "Kill this man."

Bucky didn't respond at first, until he realized that if he pretended to agree they might remove the cuffs. But he had already hesitated too long, the captain pursing her lips.

"As I thought," she sneered. "Luckily, we know how to combat insubordination."

She made a sharp, cutting gesture with her hand that Bucky wasn't sure how to interpret — until he felt one of the soldiers behind him move. Bucky's head was forced forward and pure, paralyzing panic shot through him when he realized it was to bare the injection port at the back of his neck.

There could only be one reason for that.

Bucky wasn't sure what they intended to give him, but it couldn't be good. He started struggling, trying to get to his feet despite the hands pushing him down. Winter was lashing out, urging Bucky to fight against the restraints.

"Hey! Cut it out! What is that?" Tony demanded, his voice terse.

Bucky barely heard him over the frantic beat of his own heart. He was thrashing, trying to get out from under the soldier's hands. His shoulders were screaming in agony, but no matter how much he pulled he couldn't break the cuffs.

"Call it a booster shot," the captain replied coldly.

Bucky couldn't breathe. They were going to make Winter emerge. Perhaps not knowingly, but that would no doubt be the result if they injected something related to the virus. Winter was meant to respond to the virus — he _was_ the virus — and Bucky wasn't strong enough to fight that.

He choked on a panicked whine when he felt the needle slide into the port. A shiver traveled through him when the substance was injected — he could feel it like a chilling whisper at the back of his neck.

Fighting was pointless by then but his instincts told him not to give up.

Winter didn't know anything but how to follow orders. If they told him to kill Tony, he would, even if he didn't want to. Bucky might fear what would happen to him and Winter in the hands of HYDRA, but nothing terrified him as much as the thought of Tony dying by their hand.

He couldn't let that happen.

But he knew it was already too late. Cold was spreading down his spine like a crawling sickness, numbing his veins and making him gasp for breath. Whatever they had injected him with was moving fast, making his muscles spasm and heart rate skyrocket.

Winter whimpered, which quickly evolved into a pained, panicked howl.

Bucky realized he was screaming too — he couldn't even say when he started. The agonized sound was ripped from his throat while the substance tore mercilessly through his system. He thought he heard Tony shout his name, but Bucky couldn't be sure.

His entire existence was reduced to _cold_ and _fear_ and _pain_. Winter was pushing at the back of Bucky's mind, inching closer the further the chill spread. Bucky couldn't tell if Winter was fighting the shift or not. There was probably nothing that could hold it back, but Bucky still tried. He would never forgive himself if he didn't fight the virus with everything he had this time — not when Tony's life was at stake.

Bucky couldn't hear anything over the rush of blood in his ear. He knew he would lose control soon — he remembered what it had felt like the first time. Everything was slipping through his fingers, one tiny fragment at a time. There wasn't a single inch of him that didn't hurt, but the fear of what would happen once Winter took over was even worse.

They would order Winter to kill Tony.

Bucky gasped for breath, his ears ringing. Winter was so close Bucky could feel him like a whisper under his skin, pushing to the forefront. Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the overwhelming panic.

Winter would kill Tony and there was nothing Bucky could do.

Bucky tried to fight back. He didn't want Tony to die.

Tony was precious and wonderful and he couldn't die. Bucky didn't know what he would do if Tony died.

Bucky couldn't breathe. Winter was too close. Bucky was losing.

A whine slipped from Bucky's lips when he felt the darkness approach. He felt it grab him, swallow him, pull him backwards. He struggled, desperate to stay — with Tony, to protect Tony. He needed to protect Tony.

Nothing mattered but protecting Tony, and Bucky—  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun with the cliffhanger ;)
> 
> Also, you can find the art from the beginning of the chapter [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/162637771311/so-i-joined-a-winteriron-server-on-discord-and) if you want to reblog it on Tumblr!


	11. Winter

 

* * *

 

At the beginning, the Asset hadn't even known that he wasn't alone in the body he inhabited. The Other One had only been a distant whisper, easy to ignore. But somewhere along the way the Other One had become _Barnes_ and the Asset had become _Winter_. They weren't the same, Winter knew that, but they were irrevocably connected.

At the beginning, Winter hadn't known how he came to be, but he quickly learned that Barnes was there first — Winter was the addition, not the other way around. That had surprised him, until he realized that he couldn't remember a time when Barnes hadn't been there. Barnes had been dormant, yes, but always there.

So maybe it was true — maybe Winter was a parasite created by this virus Barnes spoke of — but that made very little difference in the long run.

Winter had no intention of leaving.

It was disorienting to be given control again. Winter now knew that this wasn't his body — it belonged to Barnes — but Winter was able to borrow it, even if it had been a while since last time. For now, it was Winter's body. Barnes had fought him for months, pushing him back with a fierceness tasting of fear and loathing. Barnes was afraid of him — of what Winter could do.

Or at least he had been, before they found Tony. Now Winter wasn't sure what Barnes thought of him, but he seemed less angry.

Winter took a slow breath, fingers flexing. The metal arm obeyed, if only barely, his limbs still shivering from the shocks they had received. Barnes was quiet and distant — possibly unconscious — banished to that empty corner where Winter had resided mere seconds ago. The pain they had suffered had been worse for Barnes. He had fought fiercely against the shift, but not even Barnes was strong enough to win over whatever they had been injected with.

Winter knew not to underestimate Barnes, even if he had more weaknesses than one man should have. Barnes was emotionally frail, but what he lacked in stability he made up for in will-power and dedication. He was fierce, loyal, and protective, and had bested Winter more than once. For that, Barnes had earned Winter's respect.

Hands were holding Winter down. He could feel the cold, hard steel of the hangar floor against his knees. If he focused, he could also hear the soft hum of Tony's arc reactor, the sound barely discernible over the frantic beat of Tony's heart.

Tony was afraid.

"Asset."

Winter identified the voice as a commanding officer and reacted on instinct, his head snapping up. He stared straight ahead, awaiting orders.

"Rise."

Winter obeyed, the restricting hands falling away. He didn't strain against the cuffs like Barnes had, even if they made it difficult to stand at attention.

"That's more like it." The Captain placed her hands behind her back, her posture firm and authoritative. "Whom do you serve, Asset?"

"HYDRA."

"Who owns you?"

"HYDRA," Winter replied, as required.

"And if I give you an order?"

"I obey."

There was a pleased smirk on the Captain's lips. "Asset, where is the stolen data?"

"Hidden."

"Asset, I order you to tell me where the stolen data is."

Winter remained motionless, staring blankly. "The order is acknowledged but cannot be executed. Location of the stolen memory drive is currently unknown."

The Captain was clearly displeased with the answer, but since Barnes hadn't been in the room when Tony hid the drive, Winter didn't know where it was. He couldn't tell her.

He waited quietly for further instructions.

The Captain made a cutting motion with her hand and another surge of electricity wracked through Winter's body. The soldiers might have disarmed them but they hadn't removed the dart still stuck in Winter's shoulder — for obvious reasons.

Winter gritted his teeth against the pain. He knew not to make a sound, focusing instead on staying on his feet and remaining calm. Winter had always been better at dealing with pain than Barnes.

The shocks subsided after a couple of seconds, more of a warning than actual torture. Barnes startled awake all the same, but Winter could tell that he was still weak and disoriented, barely registering what was happening.

"Where is the stolen data?" the Captain barked.

"Hidden," Winter replied, his voice hoarse. He managed to fall back at attention despite the ache in his limbs.

The Captain raised her hand again.

"He can't lie." Tony's words echoed in the hangar, spat out between clenched teeth. He didn't speak loudly but there was an unmistakable rage simmering underneath the surface.

Against better knowledge, Winter's gaze strayed to Tony. It was the first time he'd ever looked at him — Barnes had always been in control before. This was the first time _Winter_ made the choice to look at Tony.

Two soldiers were flanking him, gripping his arms to keep him in place. Tony's hair was in disarray and his feet were bare, but his eyes were fierce, burning with anger. He was wearing their clothes — Winter and Barnes' — his shoulders squared and chin raised in defiance.

Winter had never seen anyone so beautiful.

The Captain snorted, completing the motion despite Tony's shout of protest. Winter couldn't hear the exact words over the buzz of electricity.

Like before, the pain only lasted a couple of seconds.

Winter still staggered once the shocks let up, allowing himself a brief, trembling breath before he straightened again. His muscles protested but Winter knew he would only be punished more severely if he showed weakness.

Barnes was becoming more aware, a trickle of fear reaching Winter from the corner of their mind that Barnes had been pushed into.

"He can't lie!" Tony shouted, his hands clenched and posture rigid — as if he was preparing to fight against the soldiers restraining him. Tony's anger was beginning to sound a lot like panic. "If he says he doesn't know, he _doesn't know_. HYDRA soldiers can't lie. They don't know how."

This was exactly what Barnes had told Tony not to do. He wasn't supposed to react if Barnes and Winter were tortured — that would be seen as a weakness the Captain could exploit.

"I know," the Captain replied with a slow, feral smile. She shot Tony a condescending look. "But he's not the one I'm trying to interrogate, is he?"

Winter could see Tony swallow, his gaze meeting Winter's. Tony must have been looking for comfort — perhaps even a flicker of Barnes — but Winter could offer neither.

"If the Asset doesn't know, I'm going to assume that you do." The Captain sauntered over to Tony. "I don't know who you are or why he saw it fit to bring you along, but I take what I can get. And I can't shock _you_ , can I, in case this happens to be a bomb?" She tapped the arc reactor hard enough to make Tony flinch.

Winter clenched his fists.

"So once more," the Captain said, voice measured. " _Where_ is the stolen data?"

Tony gritted his teeth but Winter could see the hesitation in his eyes — so did the Captain.

The threat was clear when she raised her hand a third time. Tony looked at Winter, his expression conflicted. Winter wanted to tell him not to succumb — both he and Barnes had experienced worse pain than this — but he wasn't sure if Tony would listen to him.

Barnes was beginning to panic, but even if he struggled he was far too weak to regain control. His efforts were just a tickle at the back of Winter's mind, just like they had been years ago.

"I won't ask again," the Captain warned.

"Fine," Tony growled. "The memory drive is in my pocket."

Winter's confusion didn't show on his face. Tony was supposed to have hidden the drive, not carry it on him. The risk of him getting searched was far too high and the drive far too valuable — Tony was smarter than that.

But there was no mistaking the memory drive the Captain pulled out of Tony's pants pocket, a smug smile on her lips. Barnes was trashing and screaming in protest.

"Really?" she mocked, waving the drive under Tony's nose. "I'm guessing he didn't bring you along for your big brains?"

She clearly didn't know Tony. Winter didn't have a lot of experience, granted, but he was fairly certain that Tony was one of the smartest people he had ever met.

Tony flinched when the Captain snapped the memory drive in two.

A wave of helplessness and despair flowed from Barnes. Everything Barnes had fought for was on that drive — without it he had nothing to bring Commander Rogers and no reason to return home. Barnes' mission had failed.

The Captain tossed the pieces of the memory drive aside before stepping away from Tony. "Now that that's handled," she drawled, turning to look at Winter. "You have new orders, Asset."

Winter knew what the order would be even before she said it out loud.

"Kill him." The Captain pointed at Tony, whose gaze snapped to look at Winter. There was a flicker of fear in Tony's eyes, but his expression turned eerily blank a second later. He didn't make a sound — no protests or pleas for mercy.

"Order confirmed," Winter replied.

After a nod from the Captain the cuffs were removed. They didn't give him a weapon — not that Winter needed one.

He rolled his shoulders, flexing his hands to test the capability of the metal arm. It was in worse shape than his flesh arm but still moderately functional. The shocks must have caused permanent damage.

Tony didn't look away or recoil when Winter crossed the distance between them. Winter hadn't expected him to — Tony wasn't the kind of man who would. He didn't even struggle against the soldiers holding him, his gaze never leaving Winter. It was impossible to tell what Tony was thinking, but he kept his back straight and held his head high — defiant to the end.

Barnes was screaming, clawing desperately to get closer to the surface and stop what was happening.

Winter ignored him. There was only one thing Winter could do and there was no point in drawing it out.

As soon as he came close enough Winter raised his left fist and punched the soldier on Tony's right. The blow was strong enough to send the soldier flying and the shocked silence that followed gave Winter enough time to snatch the second soldier's gun. One swift shot later and the soldier dropped to the floor.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Kill them!" the Captain shouted.

Winter turned his back to Tony, shielding him from the soldiers who obediently raised their weapons. The Captain gestured to the soldier in control of the electricity switch, but Tony was quicker. He pulled the dart free from Winter's shoulder and threw it aside; it landed on the floor several feet away, crackling harmlessly.

Tony's hand pressed against Winter's side, pushing him towards the left, just as the first shots zipped past. Winter obeyed the wordless command, knowing that Tony was directing them towards cover. He fired back against the soldiers, picking off two more before Tony pulled him down behind a large shipping container.

Without pausing Winter turned to Tony and handed over the gun. Tony seemed to accept it on pure reflex, automatically adjusting his grip until he held it comfortably in his hands. When their gazes locked Winter felt a strange flutter in his chest.

He had never been this close to Tony before. A part of him wanted to prolong the moment — to reach out and find out if Tony's skin was as warm as whenever Barnes touched him — but he knew he couldn't. Winter and Barnes were not the same person even if they shared the same body.

Tony might not like Winter just because he liked Barnes.

Winter liked Tony, though. He had never liked someone before. Winter still wasn't sure if he liked Barnes, but he definitely liked Tony. He was the one who had given Winter a name and been the first to speak of him as if he were a real person.

Winter wanted to touch Tony so much his fingers _itched_ , but he knew better than to try — Tony might not want him to. Besides, they had more important things to focus on.

"Cover me," Winter said. He knew that Tony could dismantle weapons and hopefully he knew how to fire them as well — even sloppy shots would keep the soldiers distracted. Winter would handle the rest.

Tony's reply was a sharp nod. There was no fear in his eyes, only determination.

Barnes had quieted but Winter could tell that he was sick with worry, feeling helpless and frustrated. Somehow, Barnes' emotions had always seemed so much more intense than Winter's, and definitely of a wider range. That was both a weakness and something Winter was reluctantly fascinated by.

Tony's shoulders were tight with tension when he and Winter moved into position. Despite the confident way Tony handled weapons, he clearly wasn't all that familiar with firefights. At least he would be relatively safe behind the container.

After Tony had fired his second shot Winter rolled out from behind their cover. He stayed low, knowing that his enhanced speed would buy him precious seconds.

Winter reached the first soldier before the opposition had time to react. One swift blow to the throat and the soldier fell to the floor, choking. Winter ducked in behind the next when the Captain turned to fire, her shots hitting the soldier in the back — only one managed to graze Winter's arm, sliding harmlessly off the metal. Without pausing he snatched the soldier's gun with one hand and held the dying man upright with the other, buying himself another couple of seconds of cover. He raised the gun and eliminated two more hostiles over the soldier's shoulder.

There were only six left, including the Captain.

Five, Winter amended, when one of Tony's shots found its mark.

"I said kill him!" the Captain shouted. There was a sliver of panic in her voice now.

Had Winter been the monster Barnes suspected him of being he might have reveled in that, but the truth was that Winter only did as told — he took no pleasure in killing. He didn't hate it but couldn't say that he wanted it, either. Winter hadn't even known what it was like to truly want something until he had seen it through Barnes' eyes.

Tony took out another one of the remaining soldiers, making the Captain flinch. She was unraveling, fear shining in her eyes.

Winter took the opportunity to drop his cover, the dead soldier slumping to the ground. In one smooth motion Winter ducked under the Captain's outstretched arm to reach the soldier behind her, narrowly dodging a point-blank shot. He wrapped his metal arm around the man's throat and picked off the two remaining foot soldiers with calm precision, careful to keep the trapped soldier between himself and the Captain. Her shots buried in the man's chest, some glancing off Winter's arm.

When the Captain was the only one left Winter turned to face her, gun raised and the limp soldier held like a shield between them. Winter's finger hesitated on the trigger. She was an officer. Memories of vivid, burning pain made Winter freeze.

For a brief second he didn't know what to do — he wasn't sure if he could kill her.

Then a shot hit the Captain in the chest, making her stumble backwards before crumpling to the ground. Winter blinked — he knew he hadn't fired. His head whipped to the side, finding Tony standing just out of cover, gun raised and a blank look on his face.

The moment lingered. Tony didn't lower his gun.

Winter realized he was the reason Tony didn't — the gun was aimed at _him_.

A twinge of pain shot through Winter's metal arm when he unwrapped it from around the dead soldier's throat, making sure to keep his hands visible. The sound of the soldier collapsing echoed in the now silent hangar. Winter carefully angled his gun away from Tony before dropping that too, hearing it land on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Barnes was silent.

Tony still didn't relax; he stayed out of reach, his gun trained on Winter.

Good.

That meant that Tony wasn't taking any chances. Winter had no intention of harming him, but it was comforting to know that Tony could handle himself in dangerous situations.

"Hello, Winter," Tony said, his eyes wary.

"Hello, Tony," Winter replied, raising his hands in surrender. It was understandable if Tony was being extra careful — Winter commended him for it, even.

"Now, we don't have much time — more soldiers are no doubt coming — but I have to ask what just happened." Tony's tone was deceptively calm. "She gave you an order that you flat out ignored. We both know you're not supposed to be able to do that."

"No, I'm not," Winter agreed.

"So why did you?"

"It was a bad order."

Tony frowned. "You disobeyed because you _didn't like it_?" The emphasis Tony put on the last three words made it sound as if the very idea was preposterous.

Winter supposed it was — HYDRA had trained him to obey. He had _always_ obeyed, until now. He hadn't even known that disobedience was an option until he saw Barnes do it, time and time again. No one hurt Barnes for making his own decisions, so Winter figured that maybe he could as well.

Maybe he didn't have to obey after all.

"I don't want to hurt you." Winter felt a flutter in his chest at being able to say those words.

He wanted something. In all his years, this was the first time he really wanted something — and definitely the first time he made a decision based upon his own wishes.

"Thank you, snowflake, that's very comforting." There was a flicker of a smile on Tony's lips.

Winter tilted his head to the side. Had Tony just given him a nickname? Technically, Winter was also a nickname, but this one felt more personal — like something meant only for him rather than a shortened form of his codename.

Snowflake.

Winter decided he liked it.

"As sweet as your unwillingness to hurt me is," Tony continued, "it doesn't explain how you managed to break through years of HYDRA programming. You're not even supposed to know what disobedience _means_."

"Barnes taught me," Winter replied. He could admit that he had fought it at the beginning — the first month of Barnes being back in control had been horribly confusing — but the more Winter learned, the more intrigued he became. Winter might only have been a spectator, but he was attentive and quick to learn.

Barnes had taught him a lot of useful things these past four months.

There was a shocked silence — Barnes seemed even more confused than Tony.

"So you saw him do it and decided to try it out for yourself?" Tony sounded baffled.

"Yes."

Tony blinked. "Huh. That's... well, I don't even know what that is." He slowly lowered his gun. "But I guess congratulations on the free will are in order. Don't spend it all in one place."

Tony was beginning to relax and Winter had to hold back an urge to step closer.

Before Winter had time to reply, Tony spoke up again. "Bucky's in there somewhere, right?"

Winter gave a short nod.

"Is he okay?"

There was a steady hum of anxiety from Barnes, with a hint of confusion, but he seemed alert and aware — relatively fine, in other words.

Winter nodded again.

"I'm guessing you won't let him back out?" Tony didn't sound angry but Winter still felt a painful tug in his chest. He wasn't sure why. Tony no doubt preferred Barnes' company to Winter's — of course he would ask. Winter couldn't blame him for that.

But Tony was right — Winter had no intention of giving up control yet.

More people would die before this was over, Winter knew that. And if there was one thing Winter had learned over the past couple of months it was that Barnes disliked killing. He had nightmares about the people they had murdered. Winter didn't understand — he didn't share Barnes' feelings of remorse — but he might be able to help, if only a little.

If Winter remained in control, _he_ would be responsible for the deaths that followed, not Barnes. He could shield Barnes from the guilt by shouldering the blame. Winter didn't mind.

Not to mention that he wasn't sure if he _could_ let Barnes have control. Whatever they had been injected with was still pumping through Winter's veins and Barnes didn't seem strong enough to fight it.

So Winter shook his head.

"Okay." Tony rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. Accept and adapt."

After a deep breath Tony walked over to the Captain's dead body, where he bent down to retrieve her earpiece. He slipped the small device into his own ear, his expression unreadable.

Tony looked incredibly out of place.

He was barefoot, first of all — which Barnes had to hate — and the light grey of Tony's clothes stood in stark contrast to the soldier's black uniforms and the red blood splatter. Dead bodies lay fanned out on the floor and in the middle was Tony, with his comfortable, oversized clothes and the soft, blue glow of his arc reactor. Tony looked vulnerable, but also strangely untouchable.

Barnes seemed to find the view disturbing, which didn't surprise Winter in the least.

Winter pushed the thought — and Barnes — aside and calmly waited while Tony listened to whatever was being said over the comms.

"They've noticed the ruckus and more soldiers are coming, but they cut me off before I heard any details," Tony reported, dropping the earpiece again before getting to his feet. He glanced towards their ship, a thoughtful look on his face. "I managed to reclaim the ship before they came and got me. We can flee if we want to."

Something told Winter that wasn't what Tony wanted, however.

Barnes twisted restlessly.

"Do you know the layout of this ship?" Tony asked.

Winter nodded. Every soldier had to learn how to navigate the ships for the sake of efficiency. Most HYDRA ships were similar in structure and layout, so Winter knew this one more or less by heart.

"Is there a terminal nearby?" Tony's eyes were glowing with eagerness; he had an idea of some kind. "With a computer connected to the mainframe?"

Winter wasn't sure what Tony was planning, but he had a feeling he would like it — which probably meant that Barnes would hate it. So far, one of the few things they both liked was Tony.

"Yes," Winter replied.

"Far?"

Winter shook his head. "Two minutes. If we run."

"Good. Take me there," Tony commanded.

They were obviously not going to escape right away.

Barnes _definitely_ didn't like that. He was fighting to get to the surface, worry and outrage fueling his efforts. He was still easy to ignore. Whatever they had been injected with was still keeping Barnes from regaining control, adding an extra barrier between them.

Winter was fine with that.

Staying on the HYDRA ship was extremely dangerous if Winter wanted to keep Tony safe, but he chose to trust that Tony had a good reason for diverting from the original plan. Besides, Tony had practically given him an order — Winter was good with those.

He quickly grabbed one of the dropped guns and the knife from the sheath inside the Captain's boot, tucking it into his own. Tony hadn't told him to arm himself, but if Winter was meant to lead them through the corridors of a hostile ship, he wasn't going to do so without weapons.

Tony jogged over to the control panel next to the door.

"Are you retrieving the data?" Winter asked when he joined him, stopping two steps away.

"What?" Tony threw him a quick glance before focusing back on the control panel, gripping his gun in one hand and pushing the required buttons with the other. "Oh, you mean the drive? No, that's fine — we still have all the data. That wasn't the only copy."

Both Winter and Barnes paused in surprise. That was the first they'd heard of that.

Tony shrugged. "I copied it weeks ago, when Bucky first gave it to me. I'm quite paranoid and wanted leverage after having read up on HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. I mean, I don't need it _anymore_ since neither you nor Bucky are going to kill me, but I didn't know that at the time." Tony said the words very casually. "In my defense, Bucky never told me _not_ to copy the information on the drive. He said I couldn't _destroy_ it, but nothing about duplicating it."

Barnes seemed surprised by the loophole Tony had found, which Winter thought was pretty hilarious — of course Tony would think of something like that. Barnes should know better.

The control panel gave off an angry beep, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

"Fuck." Tony pursed his lips. "She locked the doors. This will take a while to—"

Winter stepped closer and held his right hand in front of the scanner. The next beep was significantly more cheerful.

"Huh." Tony smiled when the doors slid open. "Authorization chip. Neat."

Instead of replying Winter stepped out into the corridor. He could hear distant footsteps — five sets — but they had a couple of seconds before the soldiers would arrive. When Winter turned to suggest they move, Tony was by the control panel on the outside of the door.

"Just for the record," Tony said, without looking up from the wall-mounted console, "your lack of faith is quite insulting. Did you really think I'm stupid enough to carry the only copy of an important data drive on me while being captured by HYDRA?" Tony scoffed, shooting Winter an offended look. " _Please_. You wound me, Winter. Deeply."

Winter stiffened. He had hurt Tony? He didn't want to hurt Tony — the thought alone was enough to make Winter's heart clench. Especially since he didn't know how to make things better — not like Barnes would have.

Winter had no idea what to reply. Was Tony mad at him? Winter had never been in this situation before. He had always scoffed at Barnes for being caught off guard by Tony's sudden shifts, but now he understood just how disorienting and frightening they could be.

Tony was already changing the subject.

"Chip," he demanded, waving towards the control panel next to the door. Winter obeyed after a brief second of hesitation, the console giving off another bleep. Tony pressed a final button and the doors slid shut, locking firmly. "There. That should keep the doors closed for anyone but you."

To keep the ship safe.

Winter hadn't thought that far. His programming made him prioritize the mission over extraction plans — he was expendable and his superiors would rather see him die while finishing the mission than flee before it was completed.

Tony readjusted the grip on his gun, a faint smile on his lips. "Show the way, snowflake."

He didn't look mad — and he called Winter snowflake. That was good, right?

The only response Winter could think of giving was a nod, the tight knot in his chest loosening. Tony wasn't mad at him.

"Stay behind me," Winter urged, knowing he could protect Tony better that way. The five approaching soldiers were getting closer.

There was no reply, which Winter chose to take as Tony's assent. The pace Winter set for them was slow for an enhanced soldier like him, but seemed to be just about what Tony could manage without getting out of breath.

When they turned the second corner they came face to face with the five patrolling soldiers. Winter was grateful that Tony's instincts had him ducking back behind cover. Dispatching the opposition didn't take long — their aim was noticeably poorer than Winter's — but every second Tony spent ducking gunfire was one where he might get hurt. Tony was painfully vulnerable with no protective clothing or combat training, and Winter was acutely aware of that fact.

He realized he had never actually felt fear before, until he had someone he desperately wanted to protect.

Winter led them further, careful to avoid the pools of blood on the floor. He was pleased to find that Tony did the same, since the last thing they needed was a trail of bloody footsteps for the soldiers to follow.

Winter belatedly realized that he should have told Tony to put on some boots. Running on the cold, metal floor couldn't be very comfortable — or good for Tony's feet for that matter.

Maybe Barnes had a point after all.

Tony didn't complain, however, following behind Winter while remaining as silent as possible. Considering the circumstances, Winter was grateful — the less noise they made, the more difficult they would be to find. Granted that they had already passed several security cameras, but the soldiers coming for them were most likely navigating by sound.

The alarm started blaring just as they turned down the last corridor. The shrill noise was jarring to Winter's sensitive ears but he knew how to ignore it — just like he ignored Barnes' increasingly loud outburst. There was worry underneath the rage, but mostly he seemed angry at them for heading the wrong way. Barnes would obviously not have agreed to take Tony anywhere but out of there.

Winter could admit that they ran a great risk of getting trapped inside the maintenance room — which would be very undesirable from a tactical point of view — but the only way to make Tony turn back now was probably to carry him. Which Winter was definitely capable and prepared to do, but only as a last resort.

Winter shot the two guards flanking the door to the maintenance room without breaking his stride. The soldiers slumped to the ground without a sound, leaving the corridor empty aside from Winter and Tony. They slowed when they reached the door, Tony neatly sidestepping one of the dead guards to look at the control panel.

"Okay, work your magic."

The control panel made an entirely different kind of bleep when it read Winter's chip that time. The door remained firmly locked.

"Shit. Okay, they work fast." Tony grimaced. "They froze your access. I don't know how long it'll take me to break through."

Instead of replying, Winter gently steered Tony out of the way and handed him his gun. Tony blinked in confusion but accepted it once he seemed to understand that Winter wanted him to hold the weapon for him.

Once the gun was out of the way Winter grabbed a hold of the console with his left hand and ripped it off the wall with one firm yank, sending sparks and parts flying. Winter paid that no mind and reached inside the mess of wires to pull out the two cables that would disable the lock. After that it was simply a matter of prying the door open, which was no match for an enhanced super soldier, even if his metal arm groaned in protest.

Tony seemed at loss for words, staring blankly at Winter's handiwork.

"I feel like I should protest on the behalf of the ruined technology," Tony said eventually, "but I can't argue with the results or your efficiency."

Winter's only reply was to reclaim his gun and place a hand on Tony's shoulder to gently steer him into the room.

Touching Tony was nerve-wracking. Never before had Winter been so aware of the damage he might cause if he pushed or clenched too hard. He almost wanted to snatch his hand back, at the same time as he wanted to let it linger — the warmth of Tony against his palm was mesmerizing.

Tony rushed to the computer, as if finally remembering that time was of the essence. He put the gun down on the main console, just out of reach, which meant that he trusted Winter to keep them safe.

"How quickly do you think we can get out of here?" Tony asked, fingers flying over the keys. The computer was far from as advanced as Tony's, but even though the system had to be different, Tony didn't seem to have any problems navigating it. "Five minutes?"

Winter calculated the time they would need to return to the ship and open the hangar doors. "Four and a half."

"Let's set it to eight, then," Tony said, frowning in concentration, "just to make sure we clear the blast radius."

"Blast radius?" Winter asked, feeling a trickle of concern. He moved to stand in the doorway, the thunder of approaching footsteps putting him on edge. It was difficult to hear anything over the shrieking alarm, and he couldn't quite determine where the soldiers were coming from — or how far away they were. The only thing he knew for sure was that there were too many for him to pinpoint the exact number.

"Yeah." Tony threw him a feral, sharp-toothed grin. "Self-destruct mechanism."

That was not what Winter had expected, but he knew that none of his surprise showed on the outside — partly because he was still wearing the mask.

Tony explained all the same. "The self-destruct codes were in the data Bucky stole. Since I had unrestricted access to the drive for days, I figured I'd memorize the bits that seemed useful."

"Like the codes."

"Like the codes," Tony confirmed. Several windows opened on the screen and Tony flicked between them without pause or hesitation. "There are four codes in total, so I'm guessing the HYDRA ships are divided into four fleets. And, as Bucky so helpfully explained, all ships are equipped with software that allows them to sync up with each other. Which is good _in theory_ since it means you only need one computer to control the entire fleet, but it also makes them vulnerable." Tony wrinkled his nose. "Their security system is pathetic, by the way — this is almost insultingly easy."

Winter felt an excited shiver travel down his spine, as well as something like horrified pride from Barnes.

"You can destroy them."

"They will fall like dominoes, my friend. Well, this fleet, at least," Tony corrected. He paused for a second, throwing Winter a quick glance. "I always make good on my promises, snowflake, no matter how outrageous they might seem at the time."

The nickname Tony used might have been Winter's but the words were clearly meant for Barnes.

Tony had promised to stop HYDRA, no matter what it took.

"How much time do you need?" Winter asked.

"Another minute, maybe two. I'm a little rusty — JARVIS usually does this part, mainly because he's infinitely faster than I am." Tony was clearly distracted by what he was doing, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned the AI. Winter had noticed that Tony had chosen not to ever since they had blown up the workshop.

Winter didn't understand grief — he had never experienced it — but if Tony felt even half of what Winter did at the thought of Tony dying, then he could understand why he chose not to speak of JARVIS.

"You have one minute," Winter said, not daring to risk staying longer. Too many soldiers were coming — he wasn't sure if he could keep Tony safe.

"Is that what you intend to do with your free will? Boss me around?" Tony sounded amused, to Winter's surprise. "Maybe you and Bucky aren't so different after all — he also likes to tell me what to do."

Winter decided not to reply, mainly because he wasn't sure what he could possibly say to that.

"He's really angry, isn't he?" Tony asked, his voice softer, to the point where Winter barely heard him over the blaring alarm.

When Winter looked at him, Tony wouldn't meet his gaze. Barnes was indeed very unhappy with the situation, quietly bristling at the back of Winter's head.

"Yes."

For a brief second it seemed like Tony intended to say something, but eventually focused back on the computer instead. Winter let him be, knowing that he had very little to offer.

Tony worked in silence, the computer giving off the occasional beep, while Winter counted down the seconds, his gaze focused on the corridor outside. The soldiers were getting closer.

"Hah!" Tony exclaimed triumphantly. "Done!"

The alarm cut off in favor of the computer AI, broadcasting across what Winter knew had to be the entire ship.

"The self-destruct countdown has begun. Seven minutes and fifty-eight seconds until detonation."

Tony pressed two more buttons before turning away from the computer. The countdown was displayed on the big screen, steadily ticking down. They had a lot of time to spare, as long as they weren't too delayed by the approaching soldiers.

"Tony, gun," Winter reminded when Tony was halfway across the room.

"Oh, right." Tony obediently doubled back to snatch up his gun.

Tony had almost made it to the door when the first soldier appeared further down the corridor — thankfully not in the direction Winter and Tony were heading. Winter took aim and fired, stepping out from the maintenance room and into clear view. If he made himself a bigger target, odds were the soldiers would shoot at him instead of Tony.

Two more soldiers took the first one's place.

"Run." Winter was surprised by the urgency in his voice — he'd never heard it sound like that before. He was almost close to shouting.

Tony followed the instruction without protest. He darted out from the maintenance room — leaping over the dead guards lying just outside — and took off running down the corridor. Winter walked backwards, firing at the approaching soldiers with calm, steady precision. Trying to kill them all was pointless, but he could take down enough of them to give Tony and himself a head start.

There was a burst of pain in his left side when a shot glanced past, but it wasn't even enough to make him stumble.

Eventually — when the sound of Tony's footsteps was distant enough — Winter turned and followed.

Barnes was quiet, but Winter could tell it was with great reluctance. The other was practically vibrating with anger, but they both knew that distracting Winter could turn fatal for all three of them.

The ship's AI was still calling out the time for the approaching explosion, its voice eerily calm.

"Seven minutes until detonation."

It didn't take long for Winter to catch up to Tony, who threw him a quick glance over his shoulder, a flash of relief in his brown eyes. Neither of them said anything — Tony was clearly too preoccupied running and Winter never had much to say.

They were almost at the hangar and Tony was the first to round the final corner. Too late Winter realized there could have been someone waiting for them by the doors, but that was thankfully not the case. He could hear marching footsteps, however, closing in from both directions.

Tony skidded to a halt in front of the control panel, Winter joining him a beat later.

"Okay, just give me a sec," Tony mumbled, tapping away on the small screen. "They disabled your access but it should still be viable for this door since I programmed it to react only to your ID, no matter if they've frozen it or not."

Winter gritted his teeth but knew that rushing Tony wouldn't help. The self-destruct timer was still not worrying, but the approaching soldiers certainly were. In these tight quarters Tony could easily get hit by a stray shot.

"Hand," Tony demanded.

Winter held it out towards the scanner, not even bothering to transfer the gun to his left hand first. The control panel gave off a beep and the doors slid open.

A split second later Winter caught a movement in the corner of his eye. He reacted instinctively, whirling around to face the threat and taking a step to the left, to better shield Tony. Winter squeezed the trigger and the soldier dropped dead, but the burning pain in Winter's right thigh told him that he hadn't been fast enough.

Warm, firm hands steadied him when his leg buckled.

"Shit," Tony cursed, quickly ducking under Winter's right arm to wrap it around his own shoulders. Tony tugged Winter along, steering them into the hangar. "Come on, snowflake, just a little further."

Tony's voice had a barely discernible tremble to it.

Winter could stand the pain — he had been hurt worse before — but he would need at least a couple of hours before he could walk properly again, never mind run.

Tony ducked when a shot zipped past above their heads. Winter would have done something about that but his gun was in his right hand and Tony was gripping that for leverage. To Winter's surprise, Tony was the one who managed to return fire, even if he was clearly bad at aiming with his left hand — behind Winter's back, no less.

It still gave Tony enough time to let go of Winter's wrist and press the button to close the hangar doors. They slid shut with a sharp hiss, buying them at least a couple of seconds.

"You head for the ship while I open the big doors," Tony said, looking up at Winter. They were standing awfully close, Tony a source of thrilling warmth against Winter's side, his right hand resting against Winter's chest. That was more distracting than anything Winter had ever experienced.

"Right now I'm faster than you," Tony continued, "both at running and the technology. Go."

Winter knew better than to argue. Not because the words might as well have been an order, but because Tony was right — and Winter trusted Tony.

The moment Tony's warmth slipped out of his grasp, Winter found himself missing it. He pushed the longing aside, knowing now wasn't the time. He limped towards the ship and scaled the ramp as quickly as he could manage, then headed for the bridge. Getting into the pilot seat sent another lash of pain through Winter's leg, but he ignored it, reaching for the switches to turn on the ship's engines instead.

There was a rumbling noise when the big hangar doors started opening and Winter was grateful to hear Tony's footsteps a second later. Tony must have locked the doors again judging by the lack of soldiers in the hangar, but there were loud bangs from where they were trying to get in.

Tony was breathless when he came jogging onto the bridge, sliding into the left-hand seat.

"Give the ramp another couple of seconds to close, then we're good to go."

Winter nodded in confirmation and flicked the last couple of switches.

"Can they stop the self-destruction countdown?" Winter asked, smoothly coaxing the ship into the air when the light on the control panel turned green, telling him the ramp had closed.

Tony shook his head. "I made sure they couldn't."

There was nothing for Winter to add, so instead he flew the ship towards the slowly opening hangar doors, back towards freedom.

"I'm putting her in stealth mode," Tony reported, his hands moving fluently over the controls.

Smaller fighters were bound to be sent out after them — until they self-destructed with the rest of the fleet — and the main ship had several cannons that could prove worrisome. Stealth mode was their safest bet.

Winter still took great care when he navigated them out of the bigger ship, taking them slightly off course for the time being. If they were being followed, it was better not to head in the same direction as HYDRA knew they had been travelling before.

Tony remained silent — worryingly so — and it wasn't until Winter felt Barnes' conflicted guilt that he realized why.

Tony had just made sure that an entire fleet of ships would be destroyed.

While Winter saw the necessity — it was the only way to guarantee their safe escape — he imagined that Tony and Barnes worried about the soldiers. Winter didn't know a lot about the virus he had been created from, but it was obvious that both Tony and Barnes saw the entities that came from it as victims rather than enemies.

And Tony had just sentenced hundreds — probably even thousands — of them to their deaths.

Winter wished he knew what to say to make things better, but he didn't. He could only watch as Tony closed his eyes and let out a slow, trembling breath when the countdown reached zero. They were too far away to feel it, but Tony — like Winter — had probably been counting down the seconds inside his head.

Tony slumped forward, elbows supported against the main console and face hidden in his hands. His breathing was sharp and unstable, and Winter had to hold back a worried noise. He wanted to help but didn't know how.

The damage was already done — all those soldiers were already dead.

Even if Winter didn't blame Tony for what he had done, Tony clearly did. Barnes' worry was as thick as Winter's, but he was equally useless. They could do nothing but watch in silence while Tony grieved.

Winter decided that 'helpless' wasn't an emotion he was very fond of.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter is a precious little snowflake. He's also one who doesn't really think ahead, which is very interesting to write. He's a lot more instinctive than Bucky, and doesn't really reflect on things the same way Bucky does. Also doesn't understand sarcasm, the poor thing.
> 
> I know a lot of you have been waiting for this moment and I hope you enjoyed it — I know for a fact that I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> If you're the tumblring kind, you can find mine [HERE](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/s)!


	12. Murderer

 

* * *

 

"We should probably have a look at your leg," Tony said, breaking the stifling silence that had settled over the bridge.

Winter looked up from where he was programming their coordinates, tilting his head to the side.

"It will heal," he replied. Wounds always did — some faster than others. This one hurt pretty badly, but Winter could already feel the tell-tale tickle that meant that it was beginning to mend together. The same applied to the graze in his side.

"You're bleeding all over the seat," Tony pointed out.

"It will stop."

Tony let out a barking laugh that held very little joy — he seemed defeated, if anything.

"Yeah, I guess it will..." Tony swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "I just..." He didn't finish the sentence, as if he didn't know exactly what he had planned to say in the first place.

Winter pressed the last couple of buttons to confirm their course — the same one Barnes had set for them at the beginning of their journey — before glancing at Tony. In all his years, Winter had never been nervous, but being alone with Tony made him feel something he was pretty certain had to be just that.

Not that Winter disliked being alone with Tony. He was incredibly happy — he liked Tony very much — but Winter found he didn't know what to say or do. He had never actually been taught how to talk to people, at least not the way Barnes did.

"It's fine," Winter tried hesitantly, hoping it was somewhere close to the proper procedure in this situation. The way Tony looked at him said it hadn't made things worse, at least.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yes," Winter replied, caught off guard by the concern in Tony's eyes.

"Then it's not fine," Tony said gently, turning his chair to face Winter. There was still a lot of underlying despair in his eyes — grief over the soldiers who had died — but some of the strength was returning. Focusing on something else seemed to help keep Tony grounded. "You don't have to be in pain."

No one had ever said that to Winter before. Pain was something to be expected and this was the first time he had heard anyone suggest that he deserved less of it.

Winter looked away. He wasn't proud of it, but the intensity in Tony's gaze was simply too much. Seeing it from afar when it was directed at Barnes was one thing — being the intended recipient was another.

"I know your healing rate is much better than average, but can we at least clean and bandage it?" Tony sounded coaxing, as if he expected Winter to refuse.

Winter wouldn't. His chest might be tight and his heart was beating worryingly fast, but he knew that wasn't a bad thing, at least not in this context. He had never been shown care before, not like this, and he didn't want to say no — especially not when Tony was the one offering.

So he nodded instead, keeping his gaze lowered even if it went against his training to be so demure.

"How about you head back to the cabin while I fetch supplies?" Tony's words were a suggestion, not an order, but Winter took comfort in them nonetheless. Being told what to do was a relief since it meant Winter didn't have to make a decision of his own. He was afraid that he might do something he shouldn't.

He nodded, rising from his chair only after Tony had done so. Perhaps it would have been wiser to sleep — it was almost early morning by then — but Winter doubted that Tony would find the peace of mind to rest after what had happened on the HYDRA ship.

Barnes wasn't there to soothe Tony and lull him to sleep like usual.

Winter limped to his and Barnes' cabin — Tony's too, Winter supposed, considering how much time Tony spent there now — and stopped by the bed, silently waiting for Tony. There was a flicker of _something_ from Barnes, but it wasn't tangible enough for Winter to figure out what Barnes was reacting to, or the exact emotion.

Tony came walking in less than two minutes later, curiously inspecting the medkit in his hands.

"Okay, so, I'm no expert at this — and I apologize in advance for whatever I'm going to put you through here — but I'll do my best." Tony looked up at Winter and stopped rather abruptly. They stood there for a couple of seconds, staring at each other. Tony seemed to be waiting for something judging by his expression, but Winter didn't know what — not without further instructions.

Eventually, Tony started looking mildly uncomfortable. "Uh, snowflake, dearest, you're going to have to take your pants off."

Winter obeyed, his movements familiar and mechanical, despite the slight twinge in his side. He unstrapped and removed the empty weapon holsters first, one after the other, placing them on the bedside table, before reaching to unbutton his pants.

"Hey, wait, what's that?" Tony frowned, tossing the medkit onto the bed before stepping closer. His hands reached for the jagged hole in Winter's side, the blood barely visible against the black of his armored jacket.

"A gunshot wound," Winter replied, obediently lifting his arm so that Tony could see better.

" _What_?" Tony's voice rose a little higher than usual. He didn't look pleased at all, his gaze sharp. "Why didn't you say anything? How many do you have, exactly?"

Winter glanced down, feeling a nervous twist in his gut. "Two."

"Oh for the—" Tony sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

"I'm sorry." Winter wasn't used to apologizing — his handlers would never accept something as insubstantial as an apology if he failed them — but he didn't know what else to say. He understood if Tony was disappointed; Winter should have been able to finish his mission without being wounded. Recuperating took time and he would be less useful the next two or three days.

"No, Winter, it's not..." Tony groaned, pushing both hands through his hair before looking up at Winter. "I'm not angry, okay? Just worried." Tony's shoulders dropped. "I don't want you to be hurt or in pain."

Winter stared at him, not sure how to react. Tony's expression softened, thankfully enough, and Winter felt some of his anxiety ease.

"It's okay." Tony's voice was much gentler, a small smile spreading on his lips. "We'll just make sure to bandage your side too."

Winter nodded in confirmation and took that as his cue to continue undressing. This was at least familiar — Winter had been given medical care often enough to know what was expected of him.

There was still a noticeable difference, what with Tony's presence. His gaze wasn't as clinical and cold as the HYDRA medics, a soft, concerned frown settling on his face when Winter's injuries were made visible. Winter's clothes either had to be mended or discarded, so he dropped them in a pile on the floor for now.

Once Winter was finished removing everything but his underwear, he faced Tony again, waiting for further instructions.

Barnes was grumbling sullenly, but Winter didn't know why — the slight flare of jealousy was even more confusing. Tony didn't look at Winter the same way he looked at Barnes when he was almost naked. A part of Winter was fascinated by that, he could admit, because even though Tony undoubtedly knew that they were different people, they should look identical.

Somehow, Tony still saw a difference.

Tony's frown deepened. "Is it okay to remove the mask?"

To be honest, Winter had forgotten that he was wearing it. As much as he had disliked putting it on after being so long without it, the mask was still the norm for him. Barnes had more issues with the mask than Winter did, although he wouldn't say no to having it removed.

So Winter nodded, but couldn't help stiffening slightly in surprise when Tony moved closer. It wasn't that Winter disliked the thought of decreasing the distance between them — he was still itching to touch Tony — but he was uncertain of the boundaries. He didn't know what was appropriate or not.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he shouldn't try to touch Tony too much without permission.

Tony seemed to hesitate, his eyes staring into Winter's, before he slowly reached up towards the mask. Winter remained motionless, holding his breath. He felt the gentle brush of Tony's fingers against his hair, then his ear, while Tony searched for the button to unfold the mask. He found it within seconds, and carefully pulled out the small earpiece once the mask was out of the way.

When Tony's lowered his hands again, Winter's instincts made him reach out to grab them — to have them linger a little longer. He realized his mistake and quickly snatched his hands back.

Tony had still seen the movement.

A silence fell. Tony looked thoughtful while Winter averted his gaze, feeling another brush of that nervous anxiety that seemed all too common when he was around Tony. Barnes was silent and Winter couldn't quite identify the emotion radiating from him, but it seemed surprisingly gentle, not hostile.

"It's okay." Tony spoke softly, angling his head to catch Winter's gaze. "You can touch me if you want to."

Winter hesitated before replying. "You said you don't like people touching you."

Tony looked confused for a second, until he seemed to realize what Winter was referring to. Tony had told Barnes he didn't like that sort of thing.

"I meant strangers, Winter." Tony smiled crookedly, dropping the earpiece onto the bedside table. "Granted that you and I aren't exactly familiar with each other — you know me better than I know you, I imagine — but I _do_ know you won't hurt me. You won't, right?"

Winter shook his head — he would never hurt Tony.

"Then I don't mind." Tony looked very sincere, his smile soft and surprisingly fond. "You don't have to be afraid of me, snowflake."

Winter's first reaction was confusion — he wasn't afraid of Tony — but he had to admit that there was definitely _something_ that made him more nervous than usual. It wasn't the same fear Winter felt when Tony might get hurt, but it was close.

Winter didn't want to do something wrong and scare Tony away.

"You know, you're a lot shyer than I thought you would be," Tony said. Only then did Winter realize he had been looking at the floor again. He turned his gaze up, finding that same soft smile on Tony's lips. "It's okay to do things without me telling you to, you know that, right?"

Winter swallowed before nodding. He knew that — he had seen Barnes and Tony interact — but doing so himself still felt weird and unnatural. Winter was glad that he now knew the difference between making his own decisions and merely following orders, but living by it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be.

Following orders was a lot less complicated.

There was an unexpected trickle of concern from Barnes that soothed Winter. He still wasn't sure what Barnes thought of him, but the worst of the animosity had definitely settled.

Tony seemed to understand what Winter wasn't saying; the way he changed the subject said as much, at least.

"How about we take care of your wounds?"

Winter was grateful for the distraction and nodded more eagerly than he had intended. Tony replied by gesturing for Winter to sit down on the bed, and then set to work on cleaning and bandaging Winter's injuries.

Tony remained surprisingly quiet. He didn't seem nervous, his hands steady as he worked, but Winter could tell that Tony wasn't quite as at ease as he would have been with Barnes. Tony was still a lot more gentle than anyone who had ever touched Winter before. He didn't count the times people had touched Barnes and he'd felt it through him — Winter hadn't been the intended recipient those times. He was now, however; Tony knew it was Winter he was touching and was still so careful.

Winter found himself holding his breath more than once, trying to soak up as much of the tenderness as possible.

It didn't take long for Tony to finish — the wound in Winter's leg had already stopped bleeding and the graze in his side was beginning to heal, even if it wasn't noticeable yet. Tony gave Winter a warm smile when he was done, gathering up the used medical wipes and empty bandage packaging.

"How bad is the arm?" Tony asked as he got up and disposed of the trash.

Winter looked at the metal arm, flexing his fingers. There was a slight delay, but less pain than expected. "Adequately functional."

Tony returned to the bed and sat down next to Winter, putting the tubes of healing gel back into the medkit. His thigh was warm against Winter's and terribly distracting. So was the scent of him — the tantalizing hints of _Tony_ that Winter could catch underneath the blood and sweat.

Winter wondered why Tony always smelled of coconut.

"Any pain?" Tony asked.

"A little."

Tony closed the lid of the medkit before looking up at Winter. "You want me to have a look at it?"

Winter hesitated. He wasn't used to being asked questions that required him to want something. He knew _how_ to want things now, but that didn't mean that he automatically knew _what_ he wanted.

Did he want Tony to look at the arm?

Repairs were no doubt needed if Winter wanted the arm to be fully functional — which would make it easier to protect Tony — but he had never liked the maintenance sessions. The one with Tony hadn't been so bad, though, because there had been less pain than usual.

None of that made it any easier for Winter to decide.

He frowned, wishing Tony could just have ordered him — or even suggest it — instead of phrasing it like a question. Orders and suggestions were easy to go along with, but questions required actual answers.

"Take your time, Winter," Tony said softly. "It's your choice."

That was what made it difficult. Winter knew better than to admit to that kind of weakness out loud, however — his training had taught him not to. Yet it was extremely disorienting to realize just how difficult it was to make decisions. There were so many things to consider and Winter didn't understand how Tony and Barnes could make it look so easy.

It wasn't easy.

"Tell me what to do." Winter turned to look at Tony, who met his gaze with a sad shake of his head.

"No, Winter, I've done enough of that already. This is your choice."

Winter felt a flicker of annoyance. It was followed by a sharp sting, not unlike a reprimand, from Barnes. That only made Winter more frustrated.

"Look," Tony began, putting the medkit next to him on the bed, "some decisions have a huge impact — trust me, I would know — and some decisions are difficult even if they're seemingly small, but they're still _yours_. No one else's. It's a responsibility just as much as it's a privilege." Tony looked imploringly at him. "You with me so far?"

Winter nodded.

"When we make decisions, we have to take responsibility — even more so if we do it for someone else." There was a flicker of something in Tony's eyes — guilt, perhaps — but Winter couldn't be sure. "Because that makes you responsible for that other person and what happens _to_ them because of your decisions."

Tony took a deep breath. "Would you have stayed on the HYDRA ship if I hadn't told you to?"

"No," Winter replied.

"So you stayed because I said so?" Tony caught his gaze, his own serious.

Despite the trickle of unease, Winter nodded.

"And, because you did, you got hurt." A soft brush of fingers against the bandage on Winter's thigh. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't told you to stay. You got hurt because of me — because of a decision I made for you."

Winter wanted to protest, but Tony's logic was sound. If they had left right away, the soldier would never have had the opportunity to shoot Winter.

"That's why making decisions for someone else is so dangerous, and why I don't want to tell you what to do." Tony swallowed. "I shouldn't have done it in the first place, back on the ship, but I just... I saw an opportunity to stop the fleet and didn't think. But now? When it concerns the arm? I can't tell you what to do — that's not my privilege or my responsibility." Tony's hand nudged Winter's; the touch was gentle but still sent a shiver down his spine. "Do you understand?"

Winter remained silent for a couple of seconds before nodding. He had made a decision for Tony as well, back at the ship, even if his had merely been to limit the time Tony had in front of the computer terminal. But what if one minute had been too much? What if the soldiers had arrived sooner? Then Winter's decision might have resulted in Tony getting hurt.

Having a free will was nerve-wracking and Winter wasn't sure if he liked it so much anymore.

"So when I say that it's up to you, I mean that," Tony continued. "You're allowed to make that decision. You're allowed to do a lot of things."

"But what if it's wrong?" Winter asked, his voice low. "What if I make bad choices?"

"We all do, Winter — that's life. Sometimes it will be difficult to figure out if a decision is right or wrong — I still struggle with that on an daily basis — so that's when you ask other people for advice."

Tony's hand was a comforting weight on top of Winter's. He dared to slowly turn his hand, until their palms aligned, the contact making Winter's fingertips tingle. Tony's skin was warm, his hand calloused, and it fit so well against Winter's.

"Can you help me decide?" Winter asked, looking up at Tony. A shiver whispered under his skin when Tony laced their fingers together, squeezing gently.

"That I can do." His smile was warm and fond — perhaps Tony liked Winter after all. "So, why do you think me looking at the arm is a bad idea?"

"It might hurt," Winter replied. Tony gestured for him to continue but Winter couldn't really think of more reasons. He wasn't afraid — Tony had shown that he was careful — and Winter trusted Tony's abilities.

"Okay, so why would it be a good idea?"

"It would be repaired — the better it functions the better I can protect you." Tony gave a surprised blink at that but didn't comment. Winter continued without prompting. "It would stop hurting."

And Tony would in all probability have to stay close in order to do the repairs — Winter didn't say that out loud, however.

"So, based on that, what would you decide to do?" Tony asked. "What would feel best for you?"

The answer was easy when put like that. "Have it repaired."

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Tony gave his hand another squeeze.

Winter could only agree. "No, it wasn't."

"Should I go get my tools, then?" It was still a question, as if Tony wanted to make sure that Winter had understood what he had tried to teach him.

Winter nodded. Tony seemed pleased and picked up the medkit before heading for the door. His fingers slipped from Winter's — which Winter didn't like at all — but he knew Tony would be back soon. He even gave Winter a reassuring smile before disappearing from view, both to return the medkit and to fetch his tools, Winter assumed.

In the meantime, Winter decided to get dressed, pulling on a simple t-shirt and a pair of loose pants. He quite liked them — HYDRA had always made him wear stiff and heavy gear, unless he was training and needed more room to move. None of those clothes had been as soft as these, though. The fact that Tony wore matching ones was also very pleasing.

Barnes was surprisingly calm, which Winter suspected was mostly due to exhaustion. The drug they had been injected with had hit Barnes hard and now that Tony had destroyed the HYDRA fleet in pursuit — and ensured the safety of the data meant for Commander Rogers — Barnes could finally relax. He wasn't asleep, exactly, but he wasn't entirely awake either. He seemed surprisingly complacent, not trying to fight his way back to the surface like Winter had expected him to. There was still that lingering barrier between them, making Barnes seem more distant than usual, but he didn't object.

Perhaps Barnes needed the rest more than he needed to be in charge.

Eventually Tony returned and gestured for Winter to sit down. Tony might have indicated the bed but Winter settled next to it on the floor instead. That was closer to the way Tony and Barnes had sat last time, and probably made it easier for Tony to work. Tony accepted Winter's suggestion with a casual shrug, placing the tools on the sheet before sitting down on the bed. His feet — still bare — were braced against Winter's good thigh, their warm weight a comforting reminder of how different this was from HYDRA's maintenance sessions.

Winter found himself strangely fascinated by Tony's toes, where they peeked out from under the hem of Tony's too-long pants. Then again, most things about Tony fascinated him, like the bright glow of the arc reactor, his easy, heartfelt smiles, and his incredible intelligence. There was still a slight slump to Tony's shoulders — a lingering hint of darkness and grief in his eyes — but it was giving way for enthusiasm.

Winter waited to put his arm in Tony's lap until he had motioned for Winter to do so.

"You're allowed to do things without first asking for permission," Tony pointed out, his fingers wandering over the metal plates of Winter's arm, admiring. "If I don't like it, I'll tell you to stop."

Winter felt a bright burst of eagerness, to Barnes' obvious amusement. That meant Winter was allowed to touch Tony, didn't it? Or at the very least try.

Gently, just in case he had misunderstood and had to pull back quickly, Winter reached out and poked one of Tony's toes. There was a small, half-choked sound from Tony, but when Winter looked up in alarm, Tony was smiling, his eyes sparkling with mirth. His shoulders trembled and Winter realized Tony was holding back a laugh — a very happy one at that.

Winter decided that meant Tony didn't mind.

While Tony worked on Winter's arm, his movements focused and confident, Winter let his fingertips brush curiously against Tony's toes, then the top of his foot, and up along his ankle. Even if Tony twitched from time to time he kept smiling, so Winter didn't stop exploring — he trusted that Tony would tell him if he did something wrong.

Barnes was watching with what could only be described as exasperated fondness, and Winter was quite surprised to realize the fondness was directed at him, not Tony. Winter had never expected Barnes to like him, but he found that the thought pleased him.

Winter was certain he could grow to like Barnes as well.

It was very peaceful to sit there, with the hum of Tony's arc reactor in his ears and the warmth of Tony's skin under his hand. Tony spoke more now, telling Winter what he was doing and warning him of the occasional jolt or tug, but Winter wasn't worried. Tony wouldn't hurt him; his fingers were careful and his voice calm and soothing.

Tony tapped gently against Winter's arm, catching his attention.

"Can you flex your fingers for me?"

Winter did. The delay was almost entirely gone and there was no pain.

"Good?" Tony asked, his fingers sliding along Winter's, causing a delightful shiver to race down Winter's spine. Winter marveled at how such a small touch could feel so overwhelming.

Tony smiled when Winter nodded.

"It's not perfect, but I've done what I can. To repair it fully I would need spare parts that I don't have here on the ship. But this should be enough for now, as long as you don't strain it too much." While he spoke, Tony closed the panels he had opened while working. Winter realized he didn't even know how much time had passed, far too preoccupied by the feel of Tony's bare skin under his fingertips.

Tony stroked his palm along the length of Winter's arm, as if he was admiring the smoothness of the metal.

"You really like it," Winter dared to say, nodding towards the arm. He had only ever seen it as a tool to help him succeed with his missions, but Tony looked at it as if it was something much more precious than that — something _beautiful_.

Winter liked how content Tony looked while working on the arm.

"Yeah, I do." Tony grinned.

"Repairing it makes you happy."

Tony chuckled that time, pushing his tools aside before focusing back on Winter. His fingers kept wandering along Winter's arm — it looked like Tony wasn't even aware of it himself, the touch instinctual. "Building and fixing things is what I do, snowflake."

Winter hesitated for a second, not sure if he was allowed to ask questions. Usually, his handlers would punish him if he did so unnecessarily, but Tony wasn't like his handlers. Tony wouldn't be mad, would he?

Tony seemed to notice Winter's hesitation, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Where did you learn to build things?" The words slipped out before Winter could stop them. He was very fascinated by what Tony could do and, much like HYDRA had trained Winter, someone must have trained Tony.

"Well," Tony began, smiling crookedly, "a lot of it comes from my dad, I guess. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps." Tony shrugged. "And it so happens that I have an affinity for machines and computers, and like it on top of that, so why not?"

"So he taught you?"

There was a flicker of something in Tony's eyes — a shadow that passed too quickly for Winter to grasp it fully — but he kept smiling. "Some of it, yeah. But I went to school too, and improvise the rest."

Winter could feel a tickle of unease from Barnes, but it was tinged with concern rather than dislike. The subject unnerved him for some reason. Winter pushed that aside, his curiosity far more interesting than Barnes' paranoia.

"Where do you come from?" Winter didn't really care about home planets — he had originated from a syringe if Barnes was to be trusted — but he wanted to know all there was to know about Tony. Barnes had for some reason not asked these questions, but Winter definitely would now that he had the chance.

"I was born on Vordania Prime," Tony replied, smiling indulgently. His hands had stilled to rest comfortably against Winter's arm, his palms warming up the metal slowly but surely.

Winter knew of Vordania Prime — he'd had a couple of missions there. The planet consisted of big, sprawling cities, full of towering buildings in shining chrome and glass, teeming with life. It suited Tony to come from such a place, full of bold, bright lights and humming technology.

"Why were you in Knowhere?"

Tony stiffened slightly at that, but his shoulders relaxed before Winter had time to start fearing that he had overstepped his bounds. Tony's smile was less comforting than Winter had expected, mostly because of the sharp spike of warning from Barnes.

He clearly didn't like that Winter was asking so many questions.

"Let's call it a vacation." Tony shrugged, but his nonchalance seemed forced. "I needed some time away from... everything."

Winter tilted his head to the side. "Everything?"

Tony let out a huffing breath, one of his hands straying towards the arc reactor seemingly on reflex. "A lot has happened in the last two years and I just..." He shook his head, attempting another smile. "It's a sabbatical — I'll go back to Vordania Prime eventually." A brief pause. "I guess I have to, to unfreeze my assets, if nothing else."

"You have family there?" Winter inched closer, Tony's knee brushing against Winter's chest.

Even though he might not admit it out loud, Winter was fascinated by families — perhaps because he didn't have one of his own. He had no mother, father, or siblings. The closest he came to a family member was Barnes, he supposed, but there was no real definition for what they were to each other.

"Friends," Tony replied, his voice brimming with warmth. "A couple of very dear friends."

"Where do your parents live?"

There was an abrupt silence and Tony quickly averted his gaze. Winter realized his mistake even without the sharp bite of Barnes' protective anger.

Tony spoke of his father in past tense.

"They're dead." Winter was surprised by how low his own voice was — as if those words weren't meant to be spoken loudly.

Tony was stiff, his face an expressionless mask while his fingers gripped Winter's arm tightly enough that it might have stung, had it not been made of metal. Barnes' displeasure was a loud buzz at the back of Winter's head, making him feel dizzy and confused. Winter knew he had made a mistake — he had understood that Tony disliked talking about people he had lost after what had happened to JARVIS — but this was more than that. Tony's gaze flickered nervously, not looking at Winter.

"Hey, look at the time," Tony blurted out. "We should probably go to bed."

Winter had seen Tony do this with Barnes several times. He would bluntly change the subject to flee from whatever it was that made him uncomfortable, which only drew more attention to the fact that there was something he was trying to avoid.

Something was wrong. There was something Tony was trying to hide, and not for his own sake, judging by how anxious he looked.

There was something he wasn't telling Winter.

Despite Tony's obvious discomfort and Barnes' ire, Winter decided to persist. He felt a tickle at the back of his mind — something was itching to break free — but he wasn't sure what. There was something he was missing; a piece of the puzzle that he desperately needed.

"How did they die?"

Tony sucked in a trembling breath, his eyes closing. "Winter..."

That didn't sound like grief or anger — it was hesitation, mingled with trepidation.

"How did they die?" Winter repeated.

His chest was tight. He didn't know why, but that something — that annoying, itching sensation — was the cause for it. Barnes was getting anxious, the ire turning into alarm. Winter got the impression that Barnes was begging him to stop, before it was too late to turn back.

Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes, tension visible in his body language. "I guess it's better if you find out from me," he mumbled, defeated and sad.

Barnes screamed inside Winter's head, tugging Winter backwards, as if he wanted to shield him from what came next. Barnes seemed to understand where this was heading. Winter didn't, not yet, but he knew he had to find out.

"They were murdered," Tony replied in a monotone. "Eighteen years ago."

Tony looked anguished, but he met Winter's gaze. Neither of them seemed able to look away. Something was crawling under Winter's skin — begging to reach the surface — but he couldn't say for sure what it was. The very room seemed to hold its breath, the moment stretching and growing until Winter felt weighted down by the silence.

The far too telling silence.

"You killed them," Tony said quietly.

Winter could do nothing but stare, Barnes fading into the background. Winter was too focused on Tony and the sorrowful — almost guilty — look on his face. As if Tony had something to apologize for.

"I didn't know for sure until Bucky gave me the memory drive. The Wardens back at Vordania Prime suspected the Winter Soldier — that's how I knew the name — but there was never any proof." The words were falling from Tony's lips as if he had been holding them back for weeks.

Winter realized that he had. Tony had known for two weeks, but never said anything.

"I found my dad's file on the drive — his name was on the list of eliminated targets. HYDRA tried to recruit him but he refused, so they had him killed. My mom was collateral damage." Tony was still holding on to Winter's arm, his grip tight. "I didn't—"

Winter didn't hear the rest, too focused on the images flashing before his eyes. That crawling, itching sensation was finally given free reign, memories flooding in so fast Winter almost gasped.

The target's smiling face — so much like Tony's — on the picture in the briefing package. High, breathtaking buildings in a city that never slept, pale blue moonlight reflecting off window panes and the metal of his arm. One well-aimed shot and the hovercar spiraled out of control, followed by a loud crash. The target died on impact — the woman did not. She stared at him when he approached, trapped inside the metal and glass of the broken vehicle, her eyes wide and frightened. Big, brown eyes, like Tony's.

Tony had her eyes.

The mission wasn't complete as long as she lived. She stared at him, the horror in her eyes only growing as he reached inside and—

Winter scrambled backwards, sucking in a sharp, panicked breath. He barely heard Tony's alarmed shout over the roaring in his ears. His back hit the wall, blocking his escape; there was nowhere to go. Too little space. The eyes still followed him. The wide, pleading eyes that looked so much like Tony's.

He had seen the light go out in those eyes. He had done that. It was his fault.

Winter curled up with a low whine, his hands shaking as he shoved them into his hair, his face hidden against his knees. There were too many voices shouting in his ears. Too many impressions — flickers of those wide, frightened eyes — and Winter couldn't breathe.

He killed them.

He killed them.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, curling up tighter.

"Winter, hey. Don't—"

Winter's breath hitched, his chest tight and lungs screaming.

He killed them.

"No, no, no, Winter, it's okay. Please, Winter."

The hand on his shoulder remained. There was screaming inside his head, but he couldn't decipher it — it was wordless, merely a sensation. There was concern too, blossoming bright and urgent. That wasn't Winter; it was the Other One.

Barnes.

"Winter, listen to me — it's okay. Just breathe. Try to breathe."

He recognized that voice.

Tony.

Winter whimpered, the hurt in his chest only cutting deeper. He knew what it was — Barnes had felt it enough times for Winter to recognize it.

Winter had murdered Tony's parents. He had slowly squeezed the life out of Tony's mother while she stared up at him with those eyes — with Tony's eyes. Winter knew what that looked like now — what those eyes looked like while dying.

It could easily have been Tony.

There was something stuck in Winter's throat — he couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to do.

He killed them.

He tugged at Barnes, begging him come back — to take Winter's place. Winter wanted desperately to curl up and hide in that dark, quiet corner of their mind. Barnes tried to help, his protectiveness and concern flaring like a bright, soothing beacon, but the barrier kept him at bay. They both struggled to let Barnes have control, but there was nothing they could do.

Winter was stuck — he couldn't flee. He had to face the pain and the memories and the dead, staring eyes.

He felt arms wrap around him but didn't know how to react.

What had he done?

Tony kept mumbling to him, telling him it was okay, telling him to breathe, telling him to calm down. Winter didn't know how. How could it be okay?

He had murdered Tony's parents.

For the first time in his life, Winter felt horrific and mind-numbing guilt wash over him, and there was nothing he could do to fight it.

What had he done?  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths, my darlings, deep breaths.
> 
> This was inevitable, I'm afraid. Winter needs to learn about guilt and the wrongness of murder, otherwise he and Bucky will never manage to get along. So even if it hurts, it's necessary.


	13. Victim

 

* * *

 

Winter didn't know what to do. He was all too aware of Tony's arms around his shoulders and Tony's knee pressing against his hip. The embrace was awkward, Winter stiff with tension even after his breathing had settled into its normal rhythm. Barnes was restless but quiet, a soft, soothing trickle of gentleness spreading from where he was residing.

Winter wondered if he was supposed to push Tony away, but couldn't bear to move. His limbs were locked in place, knees pulled up and head bent. Tony was draped over him rather than holding him, really, and while that should probably have felt suffocating, somehow it didn't.

For several minutes Winter just sat there, listening to Tony's breaths and the steady hum of the arc reactor. Tony's voice had silenced, no longer whispering words of comfort, but he didn't move away either. Winter was fairly certain he should have. One of them should move.

Why was Tony still with him?

"You should hate me." Winter had never heard his own voice sound so wrecked before, cracking and hoarse.

Tony stiffened slightly but his tone was soft. "Winter—"

"Why don't you hate me?" Winter demanded, still not raising his head. His eyes were closed, arms tucked against his stomach and hands tightly clenched.

Tony had every right to hate him.

There was a gentle sigh as Tony shifted, pulling back to sit next to Winter instead of leaning against him. One hand still lingered on Winter's shoulder, the other settling on his raised knee. "Because you didn't do it."

"I did," Winter bit out. "I know I did. I remember—"

"That wasn't you," Tony interrupted, his voice full of determination. Winter wanted to believe him but couldn't — he remembered Tony's mother all too well. Tony seemed undeterred by Winter's protests, however. "HYDRA made you. _They_ ordered you to kill my parents." Fingers stroked Winter's hair and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to whimper. "But that wasn't you, Winter. I know it wasn't."

Winter was struggling to push down the ache in his chest — the shame and the guilt and the pain — but it only seemed to grow stronger when met with Tony's gentleness. He didn't dare to look up; Winter couldn't face Tony, not after what he had done.

Why had Tony been so nice to him, when he knew that Winter had killed his parents?

The silence between them lingered.

Barnes was still trying to soothe, which Winter felt was very hypocritical. They both knew of Barnes' nightmares — how he was unable to overcome his feelings of guilt — so why did he expect Winter to? In the years they had shared a body, Winter had murdered a lot more people than Barnes. The difference was that Winter had had no frame of reference — he hadn't known whether his actions were good or bad. There had been no way for him to measure the severity of his actions — until they became personal.

Until he found out he had murdered people who were important to Tony.

In all probability, most people Winter had killed must have had families and loved ones to mourn them. Winter had caused so much pain, and he wasn't sure how to deal with that knowledge.

"Winter, will you look at me?" Tony asked softly, his palm warm against the back of Winter's skull.

Winter swallowed and shook his head. He couldn't look at Tony — he didn't want to see hate or disgust in Tony's eyes.

"Snowflake..." It was nothing more than a low whisper, almost like a plea, and contained more affection than Winter thought possible — but also a fair share of anguish. Never had he thought that a word could have such an impact as Tony's nickname for him, said in that tone of voice.

It made Winter want to do anything Tony asked of him.

"I'm not angry," Tony continued. "Please look at me."

After a couple of seconds of hesitation, Winter did as told. He trusted Tony; if he said he wasn't mad, Winter believed that. Meeting his gaze was still too difficult and Winter found himself focusing on a spot on Tony's shoulder instead. It seemed to be enough, Tony's fingers threading through his hair.

"Would you do it now, if they told you to?" Tony asked. At Winter's confused frown, Tony elaborated. "If HYDRA told you to kill my parents, would you?"

Winter's throat closed up and he quickly shook his head. He wouldn't — he _couldn't_.

"Even if they hurt you for disobeying orders?"

"I wouldn't," Winter croaked. No punishment of HYDRA's could be worse than what he felt right now, knowing how much pain he had caused Tony.

"And all the others?" Tony urged. "Would you kill them, if HYDRA told you to?"

Winter didn't know them — there were so many — but they weren't so different from Tony. Winter had robbed people of their parents, siblings, friends, and children. Winter had caused so much grief and if he had a choice, he never would again.

He shook his head. "No. I don't want to. I don't want to hurt them. I can't—" Winter's voice broke, his breath hitching.

"Sssh, I know. It's okay." Tony kissed his temple, which only made the ache in Winter's chest blossom brighter. No one had ever kissed him before and he wasn't even sure if he deserved it. "This is why I'm not angry, Winter. I know you wouldn't have killed them."

"But I _did_ ," Winter whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Only because HYDRA told you to — it was their decision, not yours." Tony nudged his chin and Winter automatically looked up, meeting Tony's gaze. There was sadness in his eyes, but no anger or hate. "Remember what I said about that? _They_ made you do it. _They_ made the decision for you — that makes _them_ responsible, not you. Because you wouldn't choose to kill all those people, would you?"

Winter swallowed and shook his head, unable to look away from the intensity he saw in Tony's eyes — the compassion and tenderness.

"And _that_ is your choice. _That_ is who you are." There was so much conviction in Tony's voice that Winter shivered. "HYDRA might be evil, but you're not. Killing all those people was never your choice. You didn't _have_ a choice — until now. And what you do with that choice is up to you."

"I want to be good." The innocent, hopeful words slipped out before Winter could stop them. "I want to..." He swallowed harshly, distracted by the warm, blazing fondness radiating from Barnes. "I don't want to hurt people. I want to be good."

Tony seemed to be struggling to keep his emotions at bay. His smile was trembling but he didn't look unhappy — quite the opposite, actually. He leaned forward and gave Winter a tight hug.

He had never been hugged before, either.

"You _are_ good, snowflake," Tony whispered. "You have no idea how good you are."

Winter didn't, no, but let Tony's assurance settle some of his anxiety. He felt himself relax, if only a little. After some hesitation he raised his hand, fingers tentatively brushing against Tony's side.

"You don't hate me?" He had to know for sure — he had to hear Tony say it.

"No, I don't hate you." Tony pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "I was angry at first, before I found out the truth about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier, but I don't hate you."

"Thank you," Winter whispered, awed by Tony's forgiveness.

Tony let out a huff that was almost a laugh, then leaned in to kiss Winter's forehead. His beard tickled. "It's okay, snowflake — I know you didn't mean it."

Winter's fingers closed around Tony's shirt, just to have something to hold on to; it felt as if the world was swaying, slowly but surely realigning itself. Tony didn't seem to mind and instead settled more comfortably on the floor next to Winter. Tony might not be hugging him anymore, but it was still good. They sat close enough to touch, Tony facing Winter, his arm bumping into Winter's raised knee and the warmth of his thigh pressed against Winter's hip.

It was a lot easier to breathe now. Winter still felt responsible for what he had done, but once again he had to agree with Tony's logic. HYDRA had issued the orders, not Winter, therefore it was their choice and they were to blame. Winter hadn't made the decisions and hadn't had any way of saying no.

Now, however, he knew better, and could choose not to kill people. The thought was enough to loosen the knot in Winter's chest. There was still lingering guilt, but Winter knew all those deaths weren't his fault. He trusted Tony when he said they weren't.

"What about Barnes?" Winter asked after a couple of seconds.

There was a stir at the back of Winter's head but he couldn't quite decipher Barnes' exact emotions.

"What about him?" Tony tilted his head to the side.

"He feels very guilty." Winter played with the fabric of Tony's shirt. "He didn't actually kill those people — I did — but he still feels guilty."

Barnes' emotions following that statement were a lot easier to interpret — indignation, frustration, and a suffocating amount of guilt and self-hate. Winter had never understood that. To him, Barnes had always seemed incredibly good, even before Winter fully understood the meaning of the word.

In the quiet of his own mind, Winter was jealous of how reliable and kind Barnes was.

Winter had always thought that loyalty meant obedience, until he saw Barnes' definition of loyalty. He had infiltrated HYDRA and stolen information from them not because a commanding officer had told him to do so, but because Barnes knew it would save lives. He had willingly chosen to risk his own life out of a sense of duty and compassion that Winter didn't understand, but was envious of all the same.

Barnes, unlike Winter, had a purpose and beliefs to fight for. Winter wasn't sure what he believed in, if anything at all.

"Well," Tony began, clearly choosing his words carefully, "that's up to Bucky, I'm afraid. I'm sure he has his reasons, even if you or I might not agree with them. And I'm hardly the right person to berate anyone for clinging to their guilt." He gave a nonchalant shrug but Winter saw the pain underneath.

"Because of the soldiers?" he asked quietly.

"That too, yeah." Tony let out a slow breath. "But mostly because of other things that I did before meeting either of you. I've caused the deaths of more people than my mind can possibly comprehend, and I struggle with that knowledge every day."

Winter wasn't sure what Tony meant. How could he have killed so many people when he was so unused to fighting? Winter knew that a lot of soldiers had died when the HYDRA fleet self-destructed, but Tony was speaking of things _before_ they have even met.

What had Tony done?

This time Winter knew better than to ask, however — he might not want to hear the answer.

"You're not to blame for the choices others made for you," Tony continued. He averted his gaze but Winter still saw the grief Tony was so obviously trying to hide. "What I did was... my choice. I made _a lot_ of bad decisions."

The silence was suffocating. Winter wasn't sure what to do and Barnes seemed equally at loss. There were so many things Tony hadn't told them about his past, and for the first time Winter started wondering just what kind of secrets Tony was keeping from them. The Tony Winter knew wasn't a cold-blooded murderer or a criminal — he was far too kind and self-sacrificing for that — but Tony didn't seem to agree.

Winter wasn't sure whose assessment he was supposed to trust.

Tony shook his head, as if clearing it from the dark thoughts. When he looked back at Winter there was a frail smile on his lips. "I'm trying to improve. It's... not going well so far, I admit, but I'm working on it."

Winter fumbled for something to say — something that might make it better. He wasn't good at these kinds of things but he wanted to try. He was definitely prepared to try for Tony.

"Let me help," he said. "If I can."

Tony had done so much for Winter and the least he could do was to offer support in return. He wasn't sure _how_ he might be able to help, but he would do his best.

There was a stunned silence from Tony before another smile — this one stronger and incredibly fond — spread on his lips. It soon evolved into a soft chuckle, Winter's heart giving a delighted flutter at the sound.

"Thank you, snowflake. It's nice knowing I have people on my side — especially ones as dedicated as you." Tony reached down and squeezed Winter's hand, which was still clinging to Tony's shirt. "I'll definitely let you know if there's anything you can do to help."

Winter was very pleased, not only because he had made Tony laugh, but because being able to offer help and support made Winter feel useful.

"Huh." Tony looked intrigued. "I think that's the first time I've seen you smile."

The comment took Winter by surprise. "I smiled?"

He wasn't sure if he had ever done that before; he'd never had much to smile about. He rarely showed any kind of facial expressions, actually, so it surprised him to hear that he'd been doing it without conscious thought.

"Yes, you did." Tony nudged him playfully — which was also quite new for Winter. "Stop over-thinking it."

Before Winter had time to reply, Tony was pushing himself to his feet, his shirt slipping from Winter's grip.

"I think it's time we get some more sleep, don't you?" Tony suggested, holding out his hand. Winter could easily rise on his own — even with his injuries — but the chance to touch Tony made him accept the offer.

Once on his feet, Winter nodded. He doubted that either he or Tony would sleep more than a couple of hours, but it would be more than what Tony and Barnes had gotten before being startled awake earlier that night. They could spare the time, even if there were several things they needed to see to before meeting Commander Rogers. According to the computer's calculations, they would reach the rendezvous point sometime late the next morning, so that still gave them about a day to prepare.

Tony started gathering the tools he had left on the bed. Once he was done he turned to face Winter again, hesitating slightly.

"I'll, uh... sleep in the other cabin." Tony sounded both awkward and apologetic.

Despite a stab of disappointment, Winter nodded. He understood if Tony didn't want to share a bed with him — Tony barely knew him. Just because Winter and Barnes lived in the same body didn't mean they got the same privileges.

Tony stood there for a couple of seconds, holding his tools and looking indecisive, before he let out a soft sigh. He was smiling when he gazed up at Winter, but it was less brilliant than usual. Winter wasn't sure why, but knew better than to ask.

"Sleep tight, Winter."

"You too, Tony," Winter replied.

With that Tony gave him a small nod before walking out of the cabin, carrying the tools with him. Winter watched him leave, feeling a complicated mix of emotions stir in his chest. Barnes was quiet, as he had been for the majority of the conversation, but there was still that steady hum of comfort and reassurance. Winter was confused by Barnes' lack of hostility, but couldn't deny that he enjoyed not having to be constantly on his guard.

"I'll take care of him," Winter promised, knowing Barnes would hear. "Until you can come out again."

Barnes' surprise was tangible. He had obviously thought that Winter would fight to remain in control. Sure, Winter liked being able to move and make decisions, he still knew this wasn't his body; he couldn't claim it as his, just because he was currently in charge of it.

Truth was, Barnes was stronger than Winter — probably always would be — and being curled up at the back of his mind wasn't so bad. Barnes was kind and dependable and cared about Tony. Winter couldn't ask for more than that.

"You can rest," Winter said. "I won't fight you. When you feel better, I mean."

He paused for a second, feeling a gentle brush of gratitude from Barnes.

Talking directly to Barnes felt strange. Winter had only ever communicated through emotions before, so to be able to phrase his thoughts into actual sentences — ones Barnes would have a much easier time understanding — felt pretty overwhelming. Suddenly, there were hundreds of things Winter wanted to say, but he couldn't grasp a single one firmly enough to form the words.

"I..." He hesitated, not sure how to phrase his request. "I like this," he continued carefully, gaze fixed on the floor. "Being on the surface. Maybe... maybe you can let me have that? Sometimes? In the future when..." Winter swallowed the rest of the sentence, disliking how uncertain and vulnerable he felt.

He honestly didn't mind Barnes' taking charge — Winter trusted him to make good choices — but sometimes Winter still felt trapped. Being pushed back into a corner of Barnes' mind cut him off from the rest of the world and made him unable to communicate or appreciate it to the fullest. There were so many things he couldn't do if he was never given the chance to operate their body — things that were new and exciting, since he hadn't been allowed to do them while controlled by HYDRA.

Barnes couldn't reply with words, but the calming reassurance he sent had to be some kind of agreement, if not an outright promise. Winter's shoulders lowered, relief flooding through him. The truce between him and Barnes was clearly growing stronger by the hour, which Winter was very grateful for.

He didn't want to hurt Barnes any more than he wanted to hurt Tony.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

When another wave of soothing calm washed through him — courtesy of Barnes — Winter smiled. He was aware of doing so that time, and knew exactly why as well.

He was really beginning to like Barnes.

Like expected, Winter only slept for three more hours before waking again — and he did so mostly because he heard Tony move around in the other cabin. Usually, Winter would rise seconds after having opened his eyes, but this time he lingered. A big part of that was that the sheets smelled of Tony, but another was that he wanted to get his bearings.

There was still a sharp sting of guilt when he thought of Tony's mother — only growing stronger when he considered how many other mothers, fathers, and children he had killed — but there was a small flicker of hope as well. Winter could make decisions now. He didn't have to follow HYDRA's orders and he didn't have to hurt people.

He could choose not to.

Winter let out a slow breath, testing the barrier between him and Barnes. It was not as strong as it had been a couple of hours ago — their body was bound to break down the drug fairly quickly thanks to their improved healing factor — but there was still too much resistance for them to switch back. Fortunately, Barnes seemed to need as much rest as he could possibly get, and staying at the back of Winter's head would certainly give him time to do that.

Winter would stay in charge until Barnes felt better.

That decided, Winter pushed himself up from the bed. A part of him would have liked to find Tony — just for the sake of being near him — but Winter couldn't be sure if that was what _Tony_ wanted.

It was probably better to focus on the preparations for their meeting with Commander Rogers.

So Winter went to check on their course — ignoring the fact that he was still limping — and did an inventory of what weapons they had left, since some of them had been left behind and destroyed with the HYDRA ship. Winter had no intention of threatening Commander Rogers with violence — Barnes was very fond of the man — but he knew there might be HYDRA spies on Commander Rogers' ship. Stepping on board the _Avenger_ without being armed would therefore be very unwise.

Winter's first priority was to protect Tony, and he could do that much more easily if he had weapons.

He brought three handguns and five different knives to the common room, intending to spread them out on the table for a thorough clean and maintenance check, but hesitated in the doorway when he noticed Tony was already occupying the space. Tony didn't seem unsettled, however, and simply waved for Winter to join him at the table.

"You want breakfast?" Tony asked, scooting to the side to make more room on the bench. "Well, I say breakfast, but really, all these military rations taste the same to me. Somehow it doesn't surprise me that HYDRA would deny their soldiers proper food."

Winter didn't point out that most HYDRA soldiers probably wouldn't taste the difference even if they _did_ get something better. He certainly would, though — during some missions he'd eaten other things than the food HYDRA had supplied him with — and while it had never occurred to him to complain, he had to admit that Tony was right. Most things tasted better than the standard military rations, though they were supposedly very nutritious.

Winter placed the weapons he had brought on the table, some distance from Tony and his food. He knew that Tony was confident around guns, but he was in the middle of his breakfast and Winter didn't want to disturb any more than he already had.

"Also, I sure hope they have coffee on the _Avenger_ because we're about to run out," Tony added. There was a steaming cup next to his plate and he took a reverent sip, sighing contentedly. "You don't want that to happen, trust me."

"I trust you," Winter replied automatically, which rewarded him with a bright smile from Tony.

A comfortable silence settled once Winter had taken a seat next to Tony on the bench. Tony was busy eating his breakfast while Winter started checking the guns. It was detailed, methodical work and Winter easily fell into the routine, his hands moving on muscle memory rather than conscious thought. He was aware of Tony glancing at him every now and then, but if Tony didn't break the silence, neither would Winter.

He worked his way through the first two guns, taking comfort in the familiarity of it.

Once he had finished eating, Tony rose from the bench, heading over to the small kitchen area. Winter heard him move around but didn't bother to follow him with his gaze. Tony returned a little over two minutes later, pushing a plate and a steaming mug of coffee towards Winter.

"Let's switch," Tony said, but didn't wait for a confirmation before he plucked the gun from Winter's hands.

Tony sat down and continued cleaning the weapon, effortlessly picking up where Winter had been interrupted. Tony's movements were just as sure and confident as Winter's had been and a small, teasing smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"Eat your breakfast, snowflake." Tony sounded very amused, but most of all fond.

Winter obeyed, in lack of a better option. He couldn't help that his gaze remained almost exclusively on Tony, though, fascinated by the ease with which Tony handled the weapon. He even picked it apart into smaller pieces than Winter would have, examining each component for flaws and damage before carefully putting them back in the proper order.

Then again, the gun Tony was working on was the one from his workshop and it was worth the extra attention. It was the best one they had, what with it being a Stark gun, and Winter was grateful that it hadn't been one of those that were left behind on the HYDRA ship.

"You've met Commander Rogers before, haven't you?" Tony asked out of the blue, his fingers still working on reassembling the final pieces of the gun.

"Yes," Winter replied, not quite sure what else to say. Barnes was listening and Winter knew that Commander Rogers was one of Barnes' friends.

Winter had less fond memories of the man. He could still remember the pain from when Barnes had started fighting him in earnest, and the confusion Winter had felt when he'd been shoved aside and ignored for months.

"He didn't know there were two of you, did he?"

Winter shook his head. "Not at the beginning. He thought I was Barnes."

Tony's hands stilled, a thoughtful look on his face. "Bucky never explained exactly how all of that went down, and a part of me is afraid to ask."

"He trapped me. Kept me locked up for two days." Winter pushed his empty plate aside. He met Tony's eyes, seeing the wide-eyed disbelief and figured it was best to clarify. "Commander Rogers, I mean."

"He did _what_?" There was a tinge of outrage in Tony's voice.

Barnes twisted, clearly uncomfortable.

"He didn't hurt me." Winter considered his words carefully, mostly to limit the first tendrils of alarm he could feel radiating from Barnes. "He was trying to help. And he did help."

"I don't think that's a good enough excuse for kidnapping and imprisoning someone against their will," Tony replied sharply. "You didn't want him to do it, did you?"

"What else could he have done?" Winter asked, tilting his head to the side. As much as Winter had disliked being captured, he understood why Commander Rogers had done it.

Tony paused, his jaws tightly clenched. His hands moved jerkily when he added the last component to the gun — and looked quite menacing while doing so.

"I don't know? Not treat you like an animal, perhaps?" Tony spat.

"I was an animal," Winter replied, surprised to see Tony flinch. Those brown eyes turned to look at him, Tony's fingers gripping the gun so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "At the time, I only knew of orders and missions. And since Commander Rogers got between me and my mission, I tried to kill him." Winter looked down at the table. "Instead of hitting back, he captured me. Kept me from hurting more people. And then Barnes returned and I learned about choices and goodness and... I met you."

Winter tried to swallow the lump in his throat, Tony sitting stiffly next to him. "If he hadn't done what he did, where would I be now?"

The silence that settled was thick and unwieldy, probably because they both knew the answer. Winter would still be nothing more than one of HYDRA's trained killers, doing their bidding without a second thought. He wouldn't know of free will or guilt or hugs or Tony.

He wouldn't be Winter.

Barnes clearly wasn't sure what to think of the conversation. A part of him no doubt wanted to defend his friend, but at the same time he must have understood just how harsh some of Commander Rogers' actions had been, depending on the viewpoint.

"He never hurt me," Winter continued softly, speaking both to Tony and Barnes. "He always spoke kindly to me until—"

"Until he realized you weren't Bucky," Tony filled in, but he sounded less angry now and more defeated. He put the gun back on the table and scooted closer, his head tipping to rest against Winter's shoulder in an act of intimacy that Winter hadn't expected — but definitely appreciated. "I guess there's no use in me getting all fired up about this, is there?"

"No." Winter turned his head slightly, Tony's hair tickling his nose. "I'm not angry at him. Commander Rogers helped me."

"And you think _I_ was too forgiving," Tony muttered. "But I guess you're right. Considering the circumstances, he probably didn't have a whole lot of options. Heaven knows what I would do in his place."

Winter hesitated before speaking. "Commander Rogers seems... resourceful. But ruthless."

There was a flare of protective anger from Barnes, while Tony let out a strained chuckle.

"Most would probably say 'determined' when referring to Steve Rogers, but I see your point." Tony sighed. "Justice isn't kind — it just is. We'd be stupid to say it has to be nice or polite. Commander Rogers does fight the good fight, but he's rumored to be stubborn and for doing things his own way — no matter who he has to get past on his way there."

"I think he's a good man." Winter didn't say so just to ease Barnes' ire, but because he truly thought so. He had seen no evil in Commander Rogers — not like Winter's handlers at HYDRA — just a lot of conviction and a very commanding presence.

"Supposedly, he's one of the best," Tony replied. "And depending on your viewpoint, I'm inclined to agree." He raised his head, supporting his chin against Winter's shoulder, which brought their faces distractingly close to each other. "But that doesn't mean we have to like him, does it?" Tony's voice was teasing and Winter found himself smiling, albeit weakly.

"I guess not?"

Barnes was clearly not happy, but he seemed to be trying to curb it — and failing. Winter ignored him for now, since Barnes was no doubt partial to Commander Rogers.

Instead Winter chose to address one of the things that had been bothering him all morning.

"What if Barnes and I can't switch back before we meet Commander Rogers?"

Tony straightened, frowning at Winter. "What do you mean 'can't'? I thought you were the one who refused to switch?"

Winter looked down at his hands, shaking his head. He supposed he hadn't explained the circumstances all that well last night. "It's the drug."

"It's holding Bucky back?"

Winter nodded. "It's like a barrier between us."

"Well..." Tony let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "That's not ideal, I admit, because Commander Rogers will be distrustful, but I don't think he'll turn us away. We have the information, after all, and can assure him that Bucky will come back once he's able to."

"Commander Rogers thinks I'm a monster," Winter whispered softly.

"Then we'll just have to inform him of how wrong he is," Tony replied fiercely. He looked at Winter as if daring him to disagree, but Winter wouldn't do that — knowing that Tony didn't see him as a monster left a warm, happy glow in Winter's chest.

He honestly couldn't blame Commander Rogers for thinking what he did, though — Winter _had_ tried to kill him, after all — but he hoped he might get a chance to prove that he wasn't like that anymore.

Winter had learned a lot since the last time he met the Commander.

"Okay, this is getting too depressing for me," Tony declared, pushing the guns away before getting to his feet. "You wanna see where I hid the backup of the stolen data?"

The shift was sudden, but Winter was getting used to that by now. So he nodded and rose from the bench as well, curious to see where Tony would take him.

He wasn't sure what to expect when Tony led him through the ship and paused to open the door to the storage compartment containing the motionless bots. Tony squeezed in with them, passing the first, climbing over the second, before stopping in front of the one at the far back. Butterfingers, according to the name stamped on the bot's arm.

"I had to improvise," Tony explained as he took down a screwdriver from a nearby shelf, crouching down next to the bot. He started unscrewing one of the metal panels. "When I first copied the original drive, Bucky was the one I was trying to hide it from since I didn't know if I could trust him." Tony glanced at Winter. "No offense, Buckling."

Barnes didn't seem too insulted, thankfully enough.

"So I had to hide it quite well, in case he decided to search the ship." Tony placed the now loose panel on the floor, reaching in to pull out what Winter suspected was the bot's main memory drive. "This was the best I could do on such short notice." Tony rose, holding up the drive.

"The data is on there?"

Tony nodded, climbing back towards Winter. "And JARVIS's backup drive is stowed away inside DUM-E. It was a tight fit, but it worked. This here—" Tony waved the drive, "—required more work. I transferred all of Butterfinger's files onto U's drive, then HYDRA's data onto this one. You wouldn't know what's on it until you've hooked it up and started going through the files."

Winter couldn't help wondering when Tony had had time to do all that. Granted that Barnes had given Tony a wide berth while he'd had access to the original drive, but transferring such a large amount of data must have taken hours.

Tony came to a stop in front of Winter. "It would probably have been found eventually, depending on how thoroughly you decide to search, but it's not the first place you'd look."

Interestingly, Tony was probably right in that. Most people would search for a physical drive inside a vent or hidden compartment rather than look inside one of the robots — especially when they seemed as simplistic as Tony's bots did.

Tony looked at the drive in his hand. "The downside is that we don't have an extra drive, so Butterfingers is going to have to be without one. And I wasn't very gentle with the transfer so U is all but useless until I've removed Butterfinger's files again — he'd just be confused by all the extra coding." Tony shrugged — as if him having incapacitated two of his bots for Barnes' cause was nothing out of the ordinary. He looked up at Winter. "But it's only temporary."

Barnes was twisting from discomfort, much to Winter's satisfaction. While the choice had ultimately been Tony's, it hadn't passed Winter by that Tony seemed willing to sacrifice everything he had to help Barnes with his mission. Tony's assets were frozen, his workshop, projects, and AI had been destroyed, he had shouldered the deaths of thousands of HYDRA soldiers, and now two of his robots were out of commission. There wasn't much left to give at this point, but somehow Winter knew that wouldn't stop Tony.

The least Barnes could do was to feel guilty about it.

"And now," Tony said, nudging Winter out through the doorway again, "I'm going to show you what's in the magic boxes."

Winter tilted his head to the side, not sure what boxes Tony was referring to.

"Not literally magic boxes, snowflake," Tony explained, amusement evident in his voice. He pointed at the two metal crates he had brought from the workshop. "I meant those."

There was a burst of curiosity from Barnes that Winter felt himself echoing — neither of them knew what Tony kept in those crates.

Winter helped Tony move them so that they were perpendicular instead of on top of each other, and sat down on the floor when Tony gestured for him to do so. There was a dull pain in his injured leg, but Winter ignored it. Tony soon joined him, sitting cross-legged with the memory drive in his lap, and reached out to open the lock on the closest crate. From what little Winter had seen they were quite complex, but it only took a couple of seconds before there was a cheerful beep and Tony could push open the lid.

Winter's curiosity got the better of him and he leaned closer, trying to peek inside.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at the shiny red and gold pieces of metal, snuggly slotted into the cut holes in the protective foam. It looked like some kind of machine, currently disassembled.

"This, dearest, is a high-tech, one-of-a-kind, near-indestructible suit of armor." Tony was grinning as he picked up one of the pieces and slipped the thick metal band around his wrist. Winter couldn't help staring when Tony pressed the release switch and the plates began to move, unfolding and molding around Tony's hand. The technology looked similar to Winter's mask, but was noticeably more advanced. In a matter of seconds, Tony's hand was wrapped in an intricately designed metal gauntlet.

Tony held out his hand between them, flexing his fingers. There was a round disc at the palm of the gauntlet that was somewhat reminiscent of the arc reactor, except it wasn't glowing. The rest was shiny red metal, the plates and components moving with stunning smoothness.

It now made more sense why Tony was so fascinated by Winter and Barnes' metal arm — and was so good at repairing it.

"You built this?" Winter asked reverently, raising his own hand to touch Tony's fingertips, metal to metal.

Barnes seemed just as awed.

"Yeah, and trust me when I say that it's even more impressive when I've got the full suit on." Tony laced their fingers together, his noticeably thicker with the added metal layer. "But I can't do much with it when it's not connected to the arc reactor or JARVIS."

"That's why you didn't use it?" Winter glanced up to meet Tony's eyes. "At the HYDRA ship."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I didn't have time to run and grab it and it's impossible to move the entire armor without JARVIS. Certain components can be powered without him if I hook them up straight to the reactor, but that requires preparation."

Winter understood where this was going.

"You'll be using this tomorrow."

Tony nodded again. "I know why you cleaned your guns, snowflake. If you don't plan to step onto a HYDRA-infested ship without weapons, then neither do I." He pulled his hand back and reached towards the open crate again, lifting up what Winter realized had to be a boot. "I'll only bring the gauntlets and the boots, though. Anything more and I can't hide it under my clothes. Besides, that's all I need to be able to fly."

Winter's eyes widened. "It flies?"

Tony grinned. "Of course it does." He nudged Winter with his elbow. "I can take you for a spin some day, if you want?"

Winter nodded enthusiastically. It wasn't just the thought of flying — which he hadn't known he wanted until Tony offered — but the fact that Tony implied that they would still see each other, even after they had delivered the information to Commander Rogers. That meant Tony didn't want to leave them.

Barnes seemed to be equally excited at the prospect, a bright burst of hope warming Winter from within.

Tony handed over the red and gold boot to Winter. "Now, let's get this bad boy ready for tomorrow, shall we?"

Winter was pretty sure that he would have agreed to almost anything in that moment, just to keep that happy smile on Tony's face.

It was comforting to know that Tony was aware of the danger they would be walking into, even if the _Avenger_ was an Alliance ship, and that he took the required measures to counteract it. If there were HYDRA spies nearby and they had been told of the Winter Soldier's desertion, they might very well try to stop the information from reaching Commander Rogers in whichever way they could.

Tony and Winter might have destroyed one of HYDRA's fleets, but that didn't mean that they were safe — HYDRA would still do their best to stop them. Thankfully, both Tony and Winter would be better prepared to fight back this time.

They had come much too far to give up now.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was interesting to write about Steve from Winter's POV. I mean, I love Steve — absolutely adore him — but he can be pretty, well... harsh. He's still good and fights for freedom and liberty and all that, but he's not necessarily the most considerate or careful person out there. I love that about him. He's like freedom's battering ram, or something.
> 
> And yes, Steve will actually appear in the next chapter! It only took him 84 000 words to show up! I blame Winter, though, because he ended up taking up a lot more space than I had originally planned. Not that I'm complaining.
> 
> I blame any possible incoherency on my fever, by the way. I'm home sick, which was why it took ages to format this chapter. Now that I'm done I think I will play some Slime Rancher, because breeding adorable slime blobs and collecting their poop is pretty much all my brain can handle right now. Enjoy the chapter, my lovelies!


	14. Protector

 

* * *

 

The first thing Winter did when he woke up on the morning of their meeting with the _Avenger_ was to test the barrier between himself and Barnes. There was a lot at stake and Winter knew that it was better if Barnes was the one to face Commander Rogers. Not only would he be given more trust, but he was undoubtedly better at situations that required actual conversations. Winter knew how to deliver reports and secret messages, but had absolutely no experience when it came to diplomacy or the finer details of information exchanges.

Maybe Barnes didn't either, but people were less likely to start shooting at him than the Winter Soldier.

Barnes seemed well-rested, pulled from his sleep when Winter opened his eyes. To Winter's disappointment, the barrier was still there, however. It was significantly weaker, but even when he tried to push through his attempts just seemed to bounce off. Not even his and Barnes' combined efforts made as much as a dent in the barrier.

Winter let out a frustrated sigh, trying to ignore how his insides were twisting from nerves. Barnes sent a touch of soothing concern in return, but it didn't offer much relief.

Winter was the one who would meet with Commander Rogers — there was nothing they could do about it.

"He doesn't like me," Winter said, wanting Barnes to understand why he was so unnerved. "What if Commander Rogers doesn't listen to me?"

If Commander Rogers was as stubborn as Tony had heard, he might not believe Winter when he claimed to have changed.

There were conflicting emotions from Barnes — a tinge of dread mixing with somewhat forced reassurance, as if Barnes worried about that very same thing but tried to deny it. Considering that Barnes knew Commander Rogers best — and how he might react to a situation like this — Barnes' doubts ruined whatever comfort he had attempted to offer.

Winter held back another sigh before pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He straightened his right leg, not surprised to feel a sharp spike of pain. When he had checked the night before, the graze in his side had been scabbed over and healing, but the wound in his thigh was more bothersome. He could almost walk without limping, but running would still be difficult. There wasn't much to do about that, though, since they were only a couple of hours away from the rendezvous point.

They had finished all the preparations the day before but Winter still felt on edge. That was highly unusual. He had performed countless of missions over the years and never had he been nervous. Perhaps it was Tony's presence — the fear of him getting hurt — or the knowledge of what might happen if they failed. Winter had never had a personal or emotional investment in his other missions, completing them simply because it was his duty.

This time, however, he actually wanted them to succeed, not only because it would make Barnes happy, but because it might mean that HYDRA couldn't hurt more people.

Winter couldn't say for sure if he hated HYDRA or not, but he knew they had to be stopped.

He was well aware that he didn't actually have to complete Barnes' mission if he didn't want to. Winter had never been given an order or even a suggestion to do so, and never outright promised to help. Despite this, he knew he would. He didn't want to abandon Tony and Barnes' cause was one Winter found that he could support — it felt like something a good person would do.

Winter desperately wanted to be a good person.

He couldn't say that he was looking forward to the meeting, however. The _Avenger_ was a big ship and there was no telling how many HYDRA spies there might be, even if Winter and Tony tried to prepare for the worst.

Tony had explained how the repulsors in his gauntlets and boots worked — that they were both flight stabilizers and weapons — but they were far from discreet. They couldn't be used unless they were attacked first, and Winter wasn't sure if it would be the HYDRA spies or Commander Rogers that might engage them. Winter was going to be fully armed, after all, and Tony would be hiding even more complex technology under those oversized clothes of his.

If they were unlucky and Tony was searched, the Alliance soldiers would find the weird metal contraption and wires that connected the boots and gauntlets to the arc reactor. If it came to that, Winter and Tony would probably be suspected of attempting to attack an Alliance vessel with the help of HYDRA's most feared assassin and what looked like a particularly nasty bomb fitted into Tony's chest.

Winter wouldn't blame the Alliance soldiers if they were unnerved by something like that.

There was no use thinking of worst case scenarios, however. Winter would simply have to handle things as they occurred, as usual. He was known for always completing his missions, no matter how difficult they were, and this would be no different.

He rose from the bed and started getting ready.

"There she is — the _Avenger_." Tony didn't sound very enthusiastic where he sat, gazing out at the looming behemoth in front of them.

She was a very impressive ship, Winter had to admit. Despite her size the _Avenger_ was known for her speed and durability rather than firepower. Winter wasn't sure if that was a personal choice of Commander Rogers', or if it was common for the Alliance to focus on defense rather than offense when designing their ships.

"I guess it's no surprise that Commander Rogers is in charge of the Alliance's flagship," Tony said, probably speaking more to himself than Winter. Most of Tony's attention was focused on hailing the other ship so that they could be given permission to dock.

When they were requested to enter the required security code, Winter took over. He'd heard Steve relay it to Barnes and had memorized it on pure habit — which was certainly in their favor now that Barnes wasn't there to tap it in.

The silence on the bridge was almost suffocating.

Winter let Tony fly the ship towards the opening hangar on the bigger ship, mostly because he seemed to need something to do with his hands. Tony wasn't nervous, per se, but definitely on edge.

The thick bands that would unfold into the gauntlets were already wrapped around Tony's wrists, hidden under the long sleeves of his favorite grey hoodie. The boots weren't as easy to hide, even with too-long pant legs, but they were less conspicuous than Winter would have thought. It mostly looked like Tony was wearing a pair of very shiny steel-covered boots instead of high-tech, armored flight stabilizers.

After some consideration, Tony had decided to hide the arc reactor again, digging out the all-but-forgotten cloaking film he had tossed aside two weeks ago. Winter was unnerved when he could no longer see that soft blue glow in the corner of his eye. He still _heard_ the reactor, but that wasn't the same. Winter was used to relying on the bright circle as an indication of Tony's well-being and every time he noticed it wasn't there, he felt a brief stab of terror.

Winter knew it was necessary, though, for Tony's safety, and therefore didn't mention his discomfort out loud. But he would be very relieved when Tony could remove the cloaking film again.

The landing was over far too quickly. Moving from the bridge to the back of the ship only took a couple of seconds. Tony pushed the button to open the ramp, his expression guarded. He looked so vulnerable, dressed in his oversized, light grey clothes — especially next to Winter, who wore black leather and dark combat gear. Given that they might have to engage with hostiles, it was better if he was dressed for the occasion. He'd left the mask behind, however, since there was no reason to hide his face here. The HYDRA spies would recognize him with or without it, and Winter didn't want to give Commander Rogers the impression that he was trying to hide.

Not to mention that the mask made him look much less friendly.

Winter wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for what was ahead of them as he stood there next to Tony, waiting for the ramp to lower. He assumed Commander Rogers would meet them in person — he seemed like that kind of man — and if Tony managed to keep Winter and Barnes apart thanks to nothing but their body language, Commander Rogers probably would as well.

Most likely, Commander Rogers wouldn't need more than a couple of seconds to realize Winter wasn't Barnes. That knowledge was highly unsettling, but Winter supposed it also meant they wouldn't have to wait long to see Commander Rogers' reaction.

Barnes was quiet but noticeably tense. He'd tried time and time again to break through the barrier during the last hour before the meeting, but with no results. Winter was stuck.

"Hey, Winter?"

Winter turned to face Tony, not the least bit surprised to see the serious look in his eyes. This was no laughing matter and not even Tony tried and make it into one — there was too much at stake. Besides, they were all tired by then and Winter didn't blame Tony if the last couple of weeks were catching up with him.

All of it would hopefully be over after today, though. Once they had handed over the drive in Winter's pants pocket, Tony would finally be given time to rest.

"These HYDRA spies aren't like the assimilated soldiers," Tony said. "They _choose_ to be here. They are, if you excuse my generalization, evil." Tony looked on as the ramp settled against the hangar floor with a metallic clank, then faced Winter. "But even then, you don't have to kill them if you don't want to. That choice is entirely up to you."

Winter blinked. He hadn't thought of that. He had been so focused on what he needed to do that he hadn't stopped to think of what he _wanted_ to do.

Could he kill the HYDRA spies now that he knew about guilt and responsibility?

"If they attack, you might have to incapacitate them somehow, but you don't have to kill them if you're not comfortable with that." Tony looked so sincere — as if Winter's desire to be good was something he was willing to fight for too. Tony knew what it was like to want redemption.

Barnes, on his part, seemed to support Tony's initiative wholeheartedly, spreading that warm, comforting fondness of his.

Winter nodded, trying but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. Instead of being frustrated over Winter's possible limitations, Tony and Barnes offered understanding. Neither of them would be angry or see Winter as useless if he found that he couldn't hurt people anymore.

"Thank you," Winter whispered, not sure what else to say — he was fairly certain no words would have been big enough.

Tony smiled. "Don't mention it, snowflake." He straightened and made a sweeping gesture towards the open exit. "Now I think we better go see Commander Rogers. After you, dearest."

They had agreed that even if Commander Rogers might not wish to see Winter, he was still better than a complete stranger like Tony. Unless it was needed, Tony would try to remain in the background.

Winter suspected that would last for about thirty seconds — a minute, if they were lucky — but made no attempt to argue.

Tony walked a step behind as they made their way down the ramp, and when Winter stopped, so did Tony. Commander Rogers was waiting some distance away from them, just as firm and imposing as Winter remembered. The Commander wasn't alone, but the two soldiers flanking him seemed to be a formality more than anything — Commander Rogers clearly hadn't expected there to be any complications.

The moment he laid eyes on Winter, he seemed to reevaluate that assessment, however. The relieved smile faded, his expression shifting abruptly into a blank mask that would have been eerie, had Winter not known that his own face was even more vacant. To his credit, Commander Rogers didn't automatically reach for the shield strapped to his back, but he was clearly not pleased with the situation.

He had not expected Winter to be the one to step out of the ship.

Barnes, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Still worried and tense, granted, but the joy he felt at seeing his friend again was quite overwhelming. Winter had to remind himself that those weren't his emotions — Commander Rogers wasn't at all happy to see him and Winter needed to stay alert.

After a stiff gesture telling the soldiers to stay put, the Commander walked closer, stopping well out of Winter's reach. He paused for a couple of seconds, as if to gauge whether or not Winter intended to lash out — last time they met Winter hadn't even waited this long before trying to shoot the man.

"I didn't expect to see you again," Commander Rogers said, his jaw clenching. "I guess I should be grateful you're not trying to kill me."

In contrast to his harsh words, Commander Roger's posture remained loose — poised to defend in the event of an attack. The Commander was clearly in favor of defense rather than offense, which Winter was very grateful for, seeing as he had no intention of instigating anything.

"We ran into unexpected trouble," Winter replied, voice even. "Barnes is fine. He will come back soon."

Commander Rogers raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't take your word for it."

"You should, you know. HYDRA soldiers can't lie."

They were barely past thirty seconds before Tony joined the conversation. Winter held back a sigh, while Barnes seemed to react mostly with exasperation. It was tinged with a fair share of fondness, though — both emotions strong enough to overpower the gnawing worry Barnes was radiating.

Commander Rogers' focus shifted to Tony, his gaze cold. Tony wasn't easily intimidated, however, and met Commander Rogers' stare without as much as a flinch.

"And you are?" Commander Rogers asked, his tone scathing.

Tony's responding grin was equally biting, his smile not hiding the sharpness in his eyes. "His mechanic."

That was clearly not what Commander Rogers had expected to hear. "His _mechanic_?" he repeated dubiously. He frowned at Winter. "You brought a _civilian_?"

"No, no, Winter is completely innocent," Tony cut in before Winter had time to reply, stepping up to stand next to him. "Bucky was the one who brought me along."

The mere mention of Barnes' nickname clearly bought them some ground, even if Commander Rogers still didn't look pleased with the situation.

Winter couldn't blame him for that.

"Bucky wouldn't." The Commander shook his head. "It could potentially risk—"

"Bucky _did_. Due to circumstances beyond his control, yes, but I like to think we made the most of it." Tony shrugged nonchalantly, but even Winter knew that those words held a second meaning that was far from innocent. They were undeniably true, but Winter wasn't sure if they really belonged in this conversation.

And, unsurprisingly, the comment made Commander Rogers' expression turn even grimmer — which in turn resulted in a burst of emotions from Barnes, most notably frustration and embarrassment.

"Now, what Winter is trying to explain is that while Bucky is unavailable at the moment, we're still here to finish his mission." Tony put his hands in his pockets, looking almost infuriatingly relaxed — as if there weren't thousands of lives at stake.

Not even Winter could spot any cracks in the façade Tony was showing.

It was quite unsettling, actually. Tony's mannerism had changed the moment he pasted on that fake smile. He was still confident and graceful, but there was something guarded about him that Winter didn't like — it was as if he was looking at an imposter. This man had none of Tony's kindness and sincerity.

"We've got everything you need, Commander, as well as some troubling news best shared in private." There was an edge to Tony's voice when he continued, making them seem more like an insult than a request. "If you can grace us with some of your valuable time?"

The look on Commander Rogers' face said he was tempted to refuse simply because of Tony's audacity. Winter choose to remain quiet, knowing he would probably only make things worse.

"Fine. This way." The Commander didn't sound happy, but didn't hesitate to turn his back to them, which was something — at least he didn't think they were there to hurt him.

Tony threw Winter a quick smile before Commander Rogers lead them from the hangar. The two soldiers fell in behind them and Winter had to fight down the shiver that slithered down his spine. He knew he was amongst allies — the soothing waves from Barnes tried to remind him of that, at least — but there could be enemies hidden within their ranks. Even if the data Barnes had stolen contained photos of the HYDRA spies, there were far too many to memorize all of their faces.

They could be passing one of them in the corridor without even knowing it. One of them might jump them with next to no warning and hurt Tony somehow.

Winter was tense enough to almost lash out when he felt something brush against his hand, only to realize it was Tony's fingers, gently stroking his. Without allowing himself to hesitate, Winter grabbed Tony's hand, hoping the contact would calm him. Tony didn't seem to mind, twining their fingers together before offering a reassuring squeeze.

It did help to have Tony's warm palm against his own, the touch grounding.

The interior of the ship was as impressive as the outside, the floors shiny and the walls spotless, somehow without feeling sterile. Commander Rogers took them through sleek, pale gray corridors, stopping once he reached a set of arched double doors.

"You are dismissed," he told the two soldiers, who both nodded before leaving without another word.

Commander Rogers pressed his hand to the panel next to the doors and they slid open to reveal a conference room dominated by a long table surrounded by comfortable chairs. One wall held a big screen while another consisted of nothing but windows, offering a breathtaking view of the black vastness outside, occasionally dotted by stars.

Tony followed the Commander into the room, but froze two steps inside the threshold when his gaze landed on a redheaded woman standing by the computer connected to the big screen. Tony tensed, his fingers squeezing Winter's in obvious fear. Winter reacted accordingly, his hand moving towards the Stark gun strapped to his thigh.

If someone was threatening Tony, Winter found he wouldn't hesitate to use violence.

"No!" Tony placed his free hand on Winter's chest, as if to push him back, his voice tight with sudden alarm. "No, no, Winter, it's okay," Tony soothed. "I was startled, that's all."

Tony was lying. Winter didn't know how he could tell, but Tony was lying.

That knowledge only made Winter more on edge, his teeth tightly clenched. He was well aware of Commander Rogers a couple of steps away, no doubt ready to interfere if Winter drew his gun instead of merely resting his hand on it. The woman was the one that worried him, however. She had barely moved an inch since they had entered the room, but Winter saw what she was. He could recognize one of his own kind from a mile away.

She was trained, like him.

Probably not by HYDRA — and she was in all likelihood not enhanced like he was — but she was no less deadly. Winter wouldn't be comfortable with leaving Tony in her company even without the way Tony had reacted upon seeing her.

Barnes' attempts to calm Winter were drowned out by the anger he felt.

"Winter," Tony whispered, softer now — no sign of that smiling imposter that made Winter's skin crawl. "Snowflake, it's okay. You can relax. She won't hurt me."

No one moved. The woman held Winter's gaze, her own unreadable but fearless.

"Why did you tense up?" Winter asked. He knew now might not be the time, but he didn't like that Tony was lying to him.

Tony seemed to understand that too, since he didn't hesitate before replying. "I didn't expect to see her. I've met her before."

Winter wanted to look at Tony, but taking his eyes off a potential threat was something his training wouldn't allow. Commander Rogers remained silent, even though Winter could tell that the man was itching to act.

"She works for S.H.I.E.L.D." Tony squeezed Winter's hand. "She's good people. It's okay."

Despite his reluctance, Winter forced himself to relax. The moment he eased back, so did the woman. That suggested that Tony was right — she wouldn't try to hurt them.

"You must be the Winter Soldier," she said, a hint of what could have been amusement in her voice. The way she studied Winter said she already knew who he was, however, possibly from personal experience. Their paths might have crossed during a mission.

"Winter," he corrected, not caring if he sounded rude. She nodded in acknowledgement.

"They call her Black Widow," Tony cut in, which was both helpful and unsettling.

Their paths had definitely crossed before and Winter wasn't the least bit happy about that. He had rarely gotten files on his opposition when HYDRA prepped him for his missions, but the Widow had been one of them. She was extremely dangerous, and was not coming anywhere near Tony if Winter could help it.

The Widow gave Tony a flat stare. "I prefer Natasha."

"Really? I could have sworn your name was Natalie," Tony shot back, his tone scathing.

"Enough." Commander Rogers' tone booked no argument, a brief silence echoing in the room. "Due to the sensitive nature of the information you're carrying, Agent Romanoff is here as a representative from S.H.I.E.L.D," the Commander explained patiently.

"Fine by me," Tony replied with a shrug, but it didn't quite look as nonchalant as usual.

Tony still held on to Winter's hand and if either of the other two in the room thought that was strange, they certainly didn't show it. Commander Rogers was giving Tony more attention than earlier, however, and Winter wasn't entirely sure why.

Barnes remained calm, even though there was no mistaking the slight nervous edge to his emotions — as if he wasn't sure if Commander Rogers and the Widow would believe him, even with all the evidence he had collected.

"I'm assuming this room is secure?" Tony asked, waiting until the Widow had nodded before continuing. "Yes, we've got a drive full of HYDRA information, and it contains all the juicy kinds of secrets you've been dying to get your hands on. Literally." Tony paused for a second, as if choosing his words. "Unfortunately, that's going to have to wait until we've dealt with the even bigger problem Bucky unearthed."

"Which would be?" Commander Rogers crossed his arms over his chest.

"The HYDRA spies within the Alliance and S.H.I.E.L.D," Tony replied.

"That's impossible," the Widow said, but it seemed to be an automatic response rather than something she believed wholeheartedly.

"Really? Why would it be?" Tony tugged Winter along, heading for the computer the Widow was standing next to. He was probably intending to plug in the drive and show them the list of HYDRA plants. "I'm not talking about mindless assimilated soldiers, but spies trained to infiltrate and gain trust — much like yourself."

Tony's words were biting enough to make it obvious how the two of them had met before. Winter bristled, knowing this woman had tried — and possibly succeeded — in damaging Tony's trust. He could also admit that a part of his anger came from the fact that she no doubt knew who Tony was while Winter and Barnes still didn't, and now was clearly not the time to ask Tony to reveal that.

The Widow gave Winter a measured look in response to his glaring, but moved out of the way when Tony and Winter approached. Winter had a feeling that had less to do with courtesy and more to do with her wanting to keep a certain distance between them.

Smart woman.

"It wasn't personal," the Widow replied.

"It never is, is it?" Tony's smile was once again false and unnerving. "Although you _did_ try to get me to sleep with you, which is usually as personal as you—"

"Are you quite done?" Commander Rogers interrupted, his displeasure evident not only in his words and tone, but the frown he shot Tony.

"Fine. I'll behave." Tony raised his free hand in surrender, but it didn't look very convincing. "Let bygones be bygones, and all that."

"You were explaining about these supposed HYDRA spies," the Commander reminded pointedly, arms still crossed over his chest.

Barnes twitched at the distrust in Commander Rogers' voice.

"Yes. They've been at it for years," Tony picked up, letting go of Winter's hand to type on the computer's keyboard. "They focused mainly on administrative positions, possibly because it's easier to manipulate events from there, but fact remains that there are enough spies within the Alliance's ranks to cause irreversible damage." Tony looked up at Commander Rogers. "There are at least thirty of them on this ship alone — hundreds if you're unlucky."

Commander Rogers' jaws clenched, but he didn't argue.

"And yes, before you ask, we do have proof," Tony added, turning to smile at Winter — a genuine one this time, thankfully. "Would you be a dear and hand me the drive, snowflake?"

Winter did as told, pulling out the memory drive from his pocket and handing it over to Tony, who slipped it into the slot next to the computer screen.

"Thankfully, HYDRA provides photos of every spy they have within your ranks, so finding them should be fairly easy — as long as they're not alerted that we're on to them."

"Which they already should be," the Widow pointed out. "They know one of their own stole information from them."

Tony didn't look up from the screen. "That they do, but they don't know where Bucky was taking it, and the fleet that followed him was destroyed before they could report back."

"Destroyed?" Commander Rogers asked dubiously, his arms lowering. The hint of confusion in his voice was quite understandable.

"Blew up," Tony replied distractedly — offhandedly, almost. "Nasty business."

Commander Rogers gave the Widow a questioning look, to which she nodded. Winter assumed she — or S.H.I.E.L.D, rather — must have found the remnants of the HYDRA fleet. It had been well into Alliance territory when it blew up, after all, and that kind of destruction wouldn't have gone unnoticed. They might not have known it was HYDRA when they found it, but the Widow was clearly capable of putting two and two together.

"Ah. There we are," Tony announced. The bigger screen lit up to show the long list of names of HYDRA spies. Tony sighed, shaking his head. "It's a depressing sight, I know."

The look on Commander Rogers' face wasn't just depressing — it was heartbreaking. Winter hadn't expected himself to feel such sympathy for the man. Barnes' reaction only amplified it, his emotions flaring when he saw his friend's despair, but Winter knew that a lot of the compassion he felt was actually his own.

Commander Rogers' sadness was understandable. The man had fought to end HYDRA forty years ago, but here was undeniable proof that not only had HYDRA survived the war — it had poisoned something the Commander had tried so hard to protect.

The Commander — unlike civilians like Tony, who believed HYDRA to be extinct — must have known that the virus still existed to some degree, even before he met Winter and Barnes. Something like that didn't die just because HYDRA's general was defeated and the Great War ended.

The severity of the situation must still come as a shock, however.

Commander Rogers clearly hadn't expected HYDRA to have spread so far without anyone noticing — he wasn't expecting an attack from within the Alliance itself.

Just as quickly as it had come, the signs of weakness in Commander Rogers disappeared, solidifying into steely determination. The sight was quite impressive and Winter realized why Barnes was so loyal to this man.

"Natasha, you will be in charge of the list," Commander Rogers said. "Gather a team that you can trust and start locating where the spies are stationed and what ranks they hold. Don't alert anyone — not even the higher-ups — until you're certain they're clean."

The Widow nodded in confirmation.

"Once you have that list, I'll arrange for the spies to be arrested — as subtly as possible," the Commander continued.

"I'm not sure if you're going to be able to catch them all," Tony pointed out, but his tone suggested he wasn't trying to be disrespectful this time. "Some will slip through the cracks."

"That's inevitable," the Widow replied, walking over to join Tony by the computer. Winter tried not to stiffen in alarm.

"We'll catch them eventually," Commander Rogers said, his voice deceptively calm considering the conviction in his eyes. "We have their information and know what they look like — they won't escape."

In that moment Winter realized that he was quite grateful to no longer be Commander Rogers' enemy.

Tony pulled out the drive and handed it over to the Widow, looking relieved to have it out of his hands. "Have fun," he said, his smile crooked but surprisingly sincere.

"I don't doubt that I will," she replied, though she sounded grim. Whether her bad mood was caused by the prospect of wading through the quite lengthy list of spies or the possibility of finding that her colleagues were traitors was difficult to tell.

Barnes, on his end, was exhausted — it was as if the relief of having finished his mission nearly knocked him out cold. He was relaxing, finally, and Winter found himself returning the favor Barnes had offered him so many times the past days, sending a trickle of soothing calm.

There was still a lot to be done — the HYDRA spies had to be found and captured — but Winter knew he and Barnes wouldn't be a part of that.

As if on a cue, Commander Rogers spoke up again. "Buck— sorry, Winter, you will have to remain out of sight until we've set the plan in motion. If any HYDRA spies were to spot you, odds are that they will alert their accomplices."

Winter appreciated the Commander's politeness. He knew Commander Rogers didn't have to be kind to him — and there was still a slight edge of suspicion in his voice — but at least he was trying. He addressed Winter by name, which was a lot better than last time. Considering that the Commander had waited thirty-eight years to find his best friend, he was behaving admirably well towards the parasite who currently inhabited said friend's body.

"They might already have noticed us when we arrived — we might have passed them on the way here," Tony said. "I suggest blocking all outgoing transmissions, just in case. If there's a HYDRA outbreak in our imminent future, at least we can contain it to this ship and not have it spread further."

Commander Rogers nodded in agreement. "I'll have the—"

He cut off at the sound of the door sliding open which, judging by the look on Commander Rogers' face, was not supposed to have happened. Winter's gaze automatically snapped to the doorway and he promptly forgot how to breathe. Barnes was suddenly screaming inside his head, his fear slamming into Winter and mingling with Winter's own panic.

Winter wasn't even aware of pulling out his gun. It was suddenly there, in his hand, aiming at the man standing just inside the threshold.

Winter knew that man.

He had sat by and watched as Winter was being programmed — watched the torture and the training — and issued several of Winter's missions personally. Winter had no idea what the General was doing there, but he knew that he couldn't let this man near Tony. He had to protect Tony. And Barnes — Winter had to protect Barnes. If the General took them back to HYDRA, they would hurt Barnes. Winter too, but Barnes would no doubt suffer more.

Distantly, Winter was aware of Tony next to him, his hand on Winter's arm — trying to push it down but to no avail. Winter couldn't hear what Tony was saying over the ringing in his ears. Commander Rogers was still half a room away, but he was inching closer. The Widow was poised to strike — she might be able to stop him if she moved fast enough.

The tension in the room was so thick it was difficult to breathe, everyone waiting to see what Winter would do next.

His hand was shaking; he couldn't remember it ever having done that before. Absolute terror was squeezing his chest and he could barely hold his arm straight. He was so afraid — the near identical emotions echoing from Barnes only made it worse. They knew this man.

Why was the General there? Was he on the list? He had to be one of the spies, but Winter couldn't remember seeing his name on the list.

"Director Pierce." Commander Rogers' voice was low but fierce. "Sir, I suggest you step outside."

Winter's breath hitched — the General was Commander Rogers' superior. He was both HYDRA's highest ranking officer and had enough power within the Alliance to be called 'sir' by a commander. That was how HYDRA had managed to infiltrate them so easily — the General had seen to it.

Winter's finger trembled on the trigger. He wanted to pull it. He needed to protect Tony and Barnes. It wasn't a matter of conscience this time — Winter wasn't afraid of guilt when it concerned the General — but the programming he had been submitted to, over and over again, until he could no longer hurt his commanding officers, kept him from shooting.

The General had raised his hands in surrender but the way he looked at Winter was anything but submissive. Winter's skin crawled. The General looked absolutely calm despite being held at gunpoint.

He knew Winter couldn't pull the trigger. Just like he knew that Winter was at a disadvantage. If the General's name wasn't on the list, Winter had no proof. He had just pulled a gun on Commander Rogers' superior and couldn't even prove that the man was a traitor.

Winter didn't know what to do.

He couldn't fire, but if he lowered his weapon they would detain him and the General could escape.

Barnes was no help at all, equally conflicted as Winter.

"What's going on here, Commander?" the General asked, still not taking his eyes off Winter.

"Sir, now isn't the time," Commander Rogers replied sternly. "Step outside and let us handle this."

Winter realized the General must have intended for this to happen. He had been notified of Winter's presence and decided that he best way to discredit Winter — and possibly Barnes' data along with it — was to merely show up and let Winter threaten to attack him.

Commander Rogers already thought Winter was a monster — nothing more than a feral beast too dangerous to have running loose — and he had just proven him right.

"That might be for the best, Commander," the General agreed.

"Actually, I have a better idea." The sound of Tony's voice made some of Winter's sense return, but the only thing he managed was to let out a pained whine.

Tony might think he was a monster too.

Except Tony's hand was gentle when it soothed down Winter's side, meant to calm and ground him.

"Winter?"

He managed a short nod in reply, to show that he was listening. His hand was shaking so badly he would probably miss even if he succeeded at pulling the trigger. He was coiled tight, barely holding himself together; one push and he would shatter.

"Shoot him," Tony ordered.

Winter sucked in a sharp breath, his panic spiking. Somehow, he managed to drown out Commander Rogers' outraged shout and Barnes' disbelief.

There was a flicker of something on the General's face that might actually be alarm.

"I can't," Winter whimpered. His chest was tight, his heart hammering. Tony's hand was still resting against his side, though, warm and soothing.

Winter wanted to obey Tony's order but he knew he couldn't.

"Why?" Tony asked.

In his panic, Winter turned to the standard response, drilled into him after hours of torture and conditioning.

"General Alexander Pierce is the highest ranking officer within the HYDRA army and should therefore never be harmed. All effort should be put into ensuring his safety and—"

The next couple of seconds were nothing but a blur.

Winter automatically cut off when the General moved to duck out of the doorway, Commander Rogers' shield singing through the air a split second too late to stop him. The Widow shouted something and was already running towards the door, but Winter couldn't focus on anything else but Tony's arms, wrapping around him when his knees gave out.

Tony didn't have the strength to keep them upright and they slumped to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Tony whispered. "I'm so sorry, snowflake. I'm so sorry for doing that to you."

"Are you okay?" That was Commander Rogers' voice, sounding awfully distant in the surrounding darkness.

Winter realized he had closed his eyes.

"We'll be okay. Go," Tony urged, hugging Winter tight. "Just lock the door on your way out. He might need some time."

Commander Rogers might have replied but Winter didn't bother to listen, focusing instead on the sound of Tony's heartbeat — racing slightly as it were — and the hum of the arc reactor. Those were comforting, familiar sounds and he found himself relaxing into Tony's arms.

Barnes was disoriented but his emotions felt more muted than usual. Winter was too exhausted to figure out why.

Tony kissed his hair, his voice cracking. "Winter? Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Winter blinked his eyes open, finding that he was curled up in Tony's arms, his face hidden against Tony's chest. The arc reactor was so close he could almost feel the vibration of it against his lips.

He took a slow breath before nodding. Tony's fingers carded through his hair, gentle yet somehow urgent, as if Tony was desperate to touch him and ground them both. Winter found he didn't mind.

"I'm sorry," Tony said again, resting his cheek against the top of Winter's head. "It was the only way I could think of that would make Commander Rogers understand."

Winter let his limbs relax, one at a time, the tension leaving him slowly but surely. He found that he was still gripping the gun and let it clatter to the floor. Despite what Tony might think, Winter wasn't upset; he knew why Tony had done what he did.

"HYDRA soldiers can't lie," he mumbled. Tony had figured out why Winter reacted the way he had — he must have understood that the General was Winter's superior, even though he wasn't on the list over HYDRA spies — and done what he could to solve the situation.

"Yeah," Tony whispered, "especially not when given a direct order. I'm still sorry. I wish I hadn't—"

"It's okay." Winter wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, craving the contact. Tony responded by hugging him even tighter. "I understand. It was necessary. And it helped."

Winter wasn't sure how long he would have been trapped by his indecision if Tony hadn't broken him out of it.

"It was necessary," Winter mumbled.

"Maybe," Tony replied after a couple of seconds, "but I'm not looking forward to what it might have unleashed."

"Mmh?" Winter couldn't manage anything more eloquent, distracted by the gentle fingertips that wandered through his hair.

Tony let out a shivering breath, his tone sending a chill down Winter's spine — just as much as the words did.

"A second HYDRA war."  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my fiancée would say: the shiteth hath hiteth the faneth. You didn't think we were done, did you? ;)
> 
> Also, I am completely _floored_ by you guys' reaction to Winter, especially since he is an OC. I want to clarify that, just to avoid confusion: this is not how I would write the Winter Soldier in the canon verse — Winter is someone else entirely. Winter's personality wasn't based on or created from Bucky (like a split personality caused by torture or brainwashing might have been) and he is his own person and separate entity. He could have been injected into someone else and still be himself, though he would've had a different name then, obviously, and probably not have gotten the opportunity to become the adorable parasite kitten we all love and adore. I say this mainly because I don't want any of you to be disappointed if I ever write a fic featuring the Winter Soldier again and he's not like Winter. The thing is, Winter wouldn't work in any other story but this one — the circumstances of his creation are too tied with who he is and what he's become. Winter is his own character and, unfortunately, this is probably the only fic you'll ever get to see him in.
> 
> That said, I am so incredibly happy that you guys enjoy reading about him. I guess I should feel guilty for tossing in an OC like this and then giving him such a major role, but fuck it — he's adorable and I'm having lots of fun. The way you praise him makes me want to burst with pride. Thank you.


	15. Avenger

 

* * *

 

It didn't take long before Winter decided that he had rested enough. As much as he appreciated being wrapped up in Tony's arms, he knew it would be selfish to stay locked safely inside the conference room when the people outside were at the brink of a war.

Winter took a deep breath before straightening, slowly pulling out of Tony's embrace. Their gazes met; Tony didn't look surprised by Winter's initiative. He raised his hand, though, the back of his fingers brushing gently against Winter's jaw.

"You okay, snowflake?"

Winter nodded before rising from the floor, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his right leg. "We should help them," he said.

Tony accepted when Winter held out his hand, offering to pull him to his feet. One gentle tug and suddenly Tony was in Winter's arms, a warm, firm body pressed up against his own. Winter suspected he would never get used to how distracting it was to be this close to Tony — it took Winter by surprise every single time.

It also made him want to hold on tight and never let go.

Barnes seemed to have similar instincts, although there was a noticeable difference between their reactions. Winter would probably never understand Barnes' more carnal urges — they were quite peculiar, Winter thought — but as long as Tony didn't seem to mind, Winter would choose not to interfere.

With some difficulty, Winter was able to push down the flutter in his chest, but he did allow his hand to settle lightly against Tony's side. Winter was incredibly fascinated by the rise and fall of Tony's ribcage — the fact that he could feel life thrum inside of him with nothing more than a touch. Tony didn't seem to mind, smiling softly before patting Winter's chest.

"You sure you're up for it? Commander Rogers will probably let us sit this one out if we want to."

Winter tilted his head to the side. "But _you_ don't want to."

He could see the restlessness in Tony's eyes; he wasn't used to being idle — even less so in a situation when lives were at stake.

"I admit I'd rather not just sit here, twiddling my thumbs," Tony replied, smiling crookedly.

"Then we help," Winter decided.

Tony grinned, rising up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss against Winter's cheek. "You are amazing," he whispered, eyes glowing with fondness.

Before Winter had time to react, Tony had slipped from his grasp and turned to the computer again. Winter blinked, momentarily sidetracked by the skip in his heartbeat and unexpected heat rising in his cheeks. Barnes was unmistakably amused, teasingly nudging him until Winter snapped back to attention. Winter shoved Barnes in retaliation, despite how childish that might make him seem — as expected, Winter's reaction only made Barnes' smugness grow.

"So," Tony began, "this computer only has restricted access to the mainframe so my influence is limited. I _should_ be able to connect us to the communications network so we can get a hold of Commander Rogers, however."

Tony's voice still held a hint of scorn when saying the Commander's name. Winter wasn't sure why Tony was intentionally antagonistic towards the man, but he knew now wasn't the time to ask. They had more important things to focus on.

While Tony tapped away on the computer, Winter picked up his gun from the floor, flicking the safety back on before tucking it away in the holster strapped to his thigh. Winter still hadn't decided whether he was prepared to kill the HYDRA spies or not, and he suspected that no amount of thinking would help him with that choice. He would simply have to trust his instincts once the situation called for a decision to be made.

The conference room they were in was almost soundproof, so it was only thanks to Winter's heightened senses that he could hear what was going on outside. Orders were being shouted, accompanied by the sound of running footsteps, but he couldn't tell if they were allies or HYDRA — probably both.

Judging by the commotion, the situation aboard the _Avenger_ was escalating into an all-out war, those loyal to the Alliance trying to detain the HYDRA soldiers suddenly revealed in their midst.

Barnes felt guilty over the chaos their arrival had unleashed. Winter didn't understand why — this was clearly not Barnes' fault. This would have happened sooner or later, with or without their interference, but at least now it did so before HYDRA had infiltrated the Alliance so completely that they might actually win. HYDRA had been discovered and was forced to act long before they had planned to; that in and of itself was a small victory.

Tony pressed another button, making a cheerful beep echo in the room.

"Is this Commander Rogers?" Tony asked out loud.

There was a brief silence before Commander Roger's voice filtered in over the conference room speakers.

"How did— never mind." He obviously didn't have to ask who he was talking to. Judging by the sounds picked up by the Commander's earpiece, he was in the middle of a fight. "This isn't—" a reverberating clang of metal hitting something hard, "—a good time. I'm rather busy at the moment."

"That's an understatement," Tony replied, sounding amused — and less hostile. "That's why I'm calling. What you got for us?"

"You want to help?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yes, Commander Obvious, we want to help — both of us. What's the situation?"

Commander Rogers seemed to be running now, shouts echoing in the background.

"Could be better," was the terse reply, followed by another one of those oddly musical clangs. Winter realized it had to be the sound of the Commander's shield as he struck his opponents. "Based on the number of hostiles I've engaged, my estimate is that a fourth of the crew are traitors — a third if we're being pessimistic."

"I'm more of a realist myself," Tony replied, his fingers drumming restlessly against the edge of the keyboard. "What do you need?"

There was a grunt, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

"Natasha is on her way to secure the communication's deck and will make sure to stop the outgoing transmissions — and hopefully disrupt any they might already have sent out." Commander Rogers didn't even seem winded despite the physical exertion. "HYDRA is outnumbered. They can't win this fight."

"So why start it?" Tony frowned.

"My guess?" Commander Rogers was running again. "To give Pierce a chance to escape. I'm in pursuit but I keep getting slowed down by the small fry throwing themselves at me."

"He's using them as cannon fodder." Tony shook his head. "I'm guessing you've secured all smaller vessels?"

"Ours, yes. I've initiated a flight ban so they can't take off without the emergency access codes, which he doesn't have. And I've ordered the hangar containing the cruiser Pierce arrived in to be locked down. There's—" the sound of the shield connecting with another target, "—just one ship we haven't had time or the means to secure."

"Which shi—" Tony blinked. "Oh."

Winter felt a sharp sting of dread, both from himself and Barnes. Theirs was the only ship that had arrived recently enough to not have been secured.

"Yeah," Commander Rogers replied. "And the hangar is low-security, meaning it can't be locked down remotely. Odds are that's where Pierce is heading, and he obviously has guards to protect him on the way there."

Tony cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. Winter understood the flicker of fear he saw in Tony's eyes. Having HYDRA's highest commanding officer slip through their grasp was bad enough, but if he escaped in their ship he would be taking Tony's bots and JARVIS's data drive along with him.

"Well, then we obviously have to stop him the old-fashioned way," Tony bit out.

"I'm close to the hangar," Commander Rogers informed. "I'll hold them for as long as I can — stop them if possible."

"We're on our way," Tony replied, his expression grim.

"See you soon." Commander Rogers' words were accompanied by another one of those echoing clangs.

Since the conversation was clearly over, Tony cut the connection with a couple of swift button presses. He then pushed back the sleeves of his hoodie to reach the release catches on his gauntlets. The metal unfolded to smoothly envelop Tony's hands, the repulsors powering up with a low hum.

"I know we probably shouldn't put you in Pierce's path again," Tony said, flexing his fingers before catching Winter's gaze. "But we can't let him take the ship."

"I know." Winter nodded softly. "I'll manage."

He knew what to expect this time and would simply have to let someone else deal with the General. Winter could still offer support, however, since nothing was stopping him from engaging the low-ranking spies.

"You think you can run?" Tony asked, glancing at Winter's right leg.

"Well enough," Winter replied. It would hurt, but he should be able to keep up with Tony.

There was no reply except for a swift nod, and then Tony was heading for the doors, stopping briefly to unlock them. By the time they slid open, Winter was by Tony's side. Neither of them hesitated before turning right, heading back towards the hangar.

Winter could hear distant shouts and the sound of gunfire, but the majority of it seemed to be taking place in the opposite direction. The General had no doubt ordered his spies to draw fire away from him, not caring in the least that he was sacrificing hundreds of his loyal subordinates just to make his escape.

Tony's footsteps echoed loudly in the narrow corridors, the metal of his boots hitting against that of the floor. Luckily, subtlety was not one of the requirements this time.

At first they met no resistance. They were clearly following in Commander Rogers' footsteps, occasionally leaping over unconscious or dead bodies lying sprawled in the corridors. In certain places there were small nicks on the otherwise smooth metal walls — from where the Commander's shield must have bounced against them, Winter realized — sometimes joined by the more recognizable marks from gunshots.

The first conscious person they ran into was on their side. The dark-haired woman paused for a split second, then offered them a brisk nod before continuing on her way — towards the louder battle — clearly having somewhere better to be. Tony threw her a sloppy salute in reply.

Around the next corner, they met their first HYDRA spy — or at least Winter assumed she was, considering that she immediately raised her gun and fired at him.

Winter easily dodged the shot. Before he even had time to decide if he should retaliate or not he heard a high-pitched whine, followed by a bright burst of light. The HYDRA spy was thrown back several feet when the beam shooting from Tony's gauntlet slammed into her chest.

Even if Tony had explained how the repulsors worked, Winter had never seen them in action before. He hadn't expected them to be so efficient, or that Tony would use them so instinctively. While Tony was always slightly too stiff when firing a gun, he had reacted twice as fast when equipped with his gauntlets, moving into position and firing without hesitation.

Winter was suitably impressed.

And he would remember to offer praise when they had more time. For the moment, both he and Tony kept running without a second glance.

Winter's leg hurt. It wasn't so bad that he couldn't ignore the pain, but he knew that he was pushing his recovery back another couple of days — he would be limping again before this was over. If they caught the General it would be worth it, however.

The next group of soldiers they ran into was in the middle of fighting each other. There was no way of telling which side each separate soldier was on since they all wore the same uniform and wielded the same weapons. Winter didn't even dare to reach for his own gun in fear of accidentally shooting one of the Alliance soldiers.

Tony didn't break his stride, heading straight into the fray with a recklessness that made Winter's heart leap into his throat. There wasn't much else to do unless they wanted to double back and try another way to reach the hangar, Winter knew that, but the sight still sent a wave of fear through him. Barnes was in agreement, but once again chose to remain on the sidelines in an effort not to distract Winter.

The corridor was narrow and Tony, much like Winter, refrained from firing his weapons, aiming instead to slip past as quickly as possible. Winter had to ram his elbow into the face of one of the soldiers and kick the legs out from under another, but it only took a split second of his time.

To be honest, Winter was more distracted by Tony than the fighting soldiers. Partly because of concern, but mostly because of how Tony moved. The way he utilized the gauntlets and boots to give himself extra bursts of speed made his progress unpredictable, while simultaneously making him a much more difficult target to hit. That required both good reflexes and great skill — Tony clearly had both.

Tony was also noticeably more confident when using his gauntlets than he ever had been with a gun in his hands. He moved differently; not quite like a fighter, but graceful all the same. He weaved his way between the soldiers, dodging and delivering blows with a steady efficiency. Considering the weight of the boots, Winter was definitely impressed by how fluently Tony moved.

It was beautiful to watch.

Tony took a leap over one of the fallen soldiers, his boots giving him an extra push, and then the path was clear yet again. A part of Winter would have wanted to stay and help, but he knew they had to prioritize stopping the General from stealing their ship.

The closer they came to the hangar, the more people they ran into.

By then it was getting easier to see which soldiers were their enemies. The HYDRA spies were using deadly force while the Alliance soldiers fought to disarm and detain. Most HYDRA spies also recognized Winter and attacked on sight — the General must have ordered them to stop him at all costs — which certainly made it easier to determine who to retaliate against.

The air was filled with the sound of gunfire and the whine from Tony's repulsors. Winter found himself relying on hand-to-hand combat rather than his gun, and whenever he _did_ fire it, he made sure it wasn't lethal. Winter knew that killing the HYDRA spies would be easier since he wouldn't have to be as careful with his aim or pull his punches, but that was also why he chose to spare them.

Tony and Barnes had taught him that the easiest way wasn't always the best.

Besides, a part of Winter couldn't help feeling sorry for them — for how their superior sent them to be slaughtered without a second thought. Winter didn't want to be a part of that. He knew what it was like to be seen as nothing but an expendable tool, and he was not going to reduce someone else to that. Tony might be right in that these people were evil — they _chose_ to join HYDRA, as opposed to Barnes who had been forced — but that didn't mean that Winter had to be as evil as they were.

He could do this without killing them.

Not to mention that they still couldn't be one-hundred percent certain of who belonged with HYDRA and who were Alliance soldiers, and Winter definitely didn't want to mortally wound someone on their own side.

Tony took a nasty tumble when one of the HYDRA spies managed to land a blow to his face, coming back up with a split lip and what would no doubt turn into a black eye. Luckily, Tony was better at close-quarter fighting than aiming a gun, and thanks to the metal gauntlets and boots anything he kicked or punched tended to end up broken — like his opponent's nose and shin.

Bizarrely, Barnes derived more joy from the sound of crunching bone than Winter did — he suspected the wave of protective anger might have had something to do with that. Barnes was quite feral when it came to those he cared about and clearly felt no sympathies for anyone who hurt Tony.

After taking another turn, Winter could hear the distant echo of Commander Rogers' shield as it slammed into its targets. They were close to the hangar, for which Winter was infinitely grateful — his leg wasn't going to hold out for much longer.

There were several bodies lying in the final corridor leading up to the hangar — dead or unconscious, Winter couldn't tell. Despite their number, he wouldn't be surprised if the Commander had singlehandedly taken them down in his efforts to reach the General. Winter had fought Commander Rogers and he knew firsthand how skilled the man was.

Gunfire and shouts echoed from inside the hangar but neither Winter nor Tony slowed down. The doors were wide open, sparks flying from the broken control panel on the wall; the Commander's handiwork, Winter assumed. He and Tony crossed the threshold and Winter's gaze automatically swept over the room, taking in the scene unfolding before them.

Commander Rogers was fighting his way towards the ship, the shield nothing more than a brightly colored blur as he pushed forward with a calm and steady precision. There were a handful of Alliance soldiers fighting with him, offering covering fire from various strategic positions within the hangar.

Only Commander Rogers was daring enough to fight the enemy head-on, however.

Barnes clearly didn't like that, radiating a mixture of exasperation, worry, and frustration.

Despite the Commander's efforts, the General was nowhere in sight — most probably already aboard the ship. Winter bit back an angry snarl when he noticed the humming engines, knowing that the ship was just a minute or two away from taking off.

They didn't have much time.

"I'll stop the ship — you help Commander Rogers," Tony shouted over the sound of gunfire and the whine of his repulsors. He was airborne before Winter even managed to get a word in.

Not that he had intended to object — Winter's skill set was better suited for combat and Tony would be able to reach the ship faster since he could fly above the fighting soldiers. Winter still felt a sting of panic at being separated. He trusted Tony's abilities — he did — but a lot could happen if Winter wasn't there to help.

He pushed the anxiety aside and moved to aid the Commander instead. Tony was already out of Winter's reach, soaring through the air towards the ship, but helping Commander Rogers break through the last line of HYDRA's defense was the next best thing.

Winter ducked under the Commander's ricocheting shield with a smooth roll. On the way up, he took out one of the HYDRA spies with a sharp sweep with his left arm, sending her flying into two of her comrades.

"Took you long enough," the Commander greeted, a hint of strain in his voice. He caught the shield midair and quickly raised it to block a shot from one of the HYDRA spies. "Pierce is on the ship."

"Tony will stop him," Winter assured. The ship's ramp was closing and Winter felt another jolt of fear when Tony barely managed to slip through the gap, disappearing from view.

Winter hoped the General didn't have too many guards with him in there. Tony had his gauntlets, yes, but no armor or protective clothing — one blow to the arc reactor and he might die.

Again, Winter forced himself to push the thought aside, knowing it would only be a distraction. He had other things he needed to focus on.

Winter raised his gun and fired, hitting one of the HYDRA spies in the shoulder. The Commander took the opportunity to rush forward, slamming his shield into the nearest target while Winter offered cover. He still only aimed to wound and incapacitate, but Commander Rogers clearly chose not to comment on that.

Fighting alongside Commander Rogers was surprisingly easy.

They made steady progress, alternating between who offered long-distance cover and who moved in for close-range combat. Not once did they collide or get in each other's way, moving fluently and confidently around each other. Somehow, Winter could predict where the Commander's next step would take him and which his next target was. Winter always knew when to twist out of the way of the shield as it came hurling through the air, and more than once they combined their attacks to more quickly bring down the HYDRA spies — all without verbal communication.

They seemed to be falling into some kind of instinctive pattern that Winter didn't recognize — not until he felt the excitement vibrating from Barnes.

These were _Barnes'_ instincts, Winter realized.

Winter had fought _against_ Commander Rogers, never with him, yet some part of Winter still knew exactly what to do — where to be to make them as efficient as possible. He was acting on Barnes' muscle memory; experiences and knowledge he must have carried since he fought alongside the Commander in the Great War. Winter wasn't sure how that was possible — he had none of Barnes' actual memories — yet somehow this felt like second nature.

Trusting Commander Rogers with his life came as naturally as breathing.

That realization made Winter daring enough to snatch the shield as it whirled past. He spun around and slammed the flat side into a HYDRA spy's face, causing a loud, musical clang, then threw it to bounce against a second spy who was aiming to shoot the Commander in the back. Judging by Barnes' surprise he had never done anything similar — probably because he hadn't been enhanced last time he fought alongside Commander Rogers — but their improved body in combination with Barnes' memories seemed to make it possible.

Handling the shield wasn't as easy as the Commander made it look, however, but the rebound was straight enough that Commander Rogers was able to reclaim it. If the Commander was insulted or surprised by Winter's audacity, he didn't show it.

Winter had no idea what was going on inside the ship — the cacophony of sounds around him made it impossible to overhear — but he knew it couldn't be good when the ship suddenly started rising into the air. Fear made Winter's chest tighten.

Did that mean something had happened to Tony? He would never have let the ship take off.

The HYDRA spies were rapidly thinning out thanks to Winter and Commander Rogers combined efforts and as soon as he got a clear path, Winter was running towards the ship. He knew he was being reckless, but the growing panic wasn't going away. He had to help Tony.

The ship seemed to wobble in the air, as if unsure of where to go. Winter screeched to a halt, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He watched as the ship cut sharply to the left, then downwards. There was an ear-splitting shriek when the ship's hull came in contact with the floor, metal scraping against metal, sending bright sparks flying. Eventually, the ship came to a shuddering halt, listing to one side. The engines cut off.

The noise in the hangar was dying down — the last HYDRA spies falling as they became increasingly outnumbered — but Winter only registered that at the back of his mind. He was already heading for the ship, Commander Rogers a couple of steps behind him.

The fact that the ship had crashed had to mean that Tony was alive — he had made it swerve like that. But since it had taken off in the first place, that meant that the General probably was as well. They had to be fighting over the controls. The knowledge that Tony was trapped inside the ship with someone as ruthless as the General made fear crawl under Winter's skin.

Barnes wasn't fairing any better, his panic only adding to Winter's own.

The closed ramp greeted Winter when he reached the ship. Quickly, with his breath caught in his throat, Winter's left hand wandered over the hull. His fingers eventually found the secret panel, flicking it open to get to the hidden number pad. Most spaceships were meant to be opened from the outside, but HYDRA took extra care in making it as difficult as possible. Winter gritted his teeth as he punched in the six digit code, but didn't dare to relax even when he heard the familiar hiss of the ramp opening.

The ship was still tilting to the left, but not so much that it would be too difficult to board. Winter backed up a couple of steps, waiting for the ramp to lower enough that he could squeeze inside.

He almost lashed out when he felt a hand grab his arm, not expecting to be touched — neither did he appreciate being held back from rushing to Tony's aid.

"Wait."

Winter would have snarled at Commander Rogers, had he not heard the tightness in the man's voice. That was enough to give Winter pause, his stomach rolling from dread.

There was an angry whirr from the ramp when one edge caught against the floor, the other still up in the air. A woman wearing an Alliance uniform lay just inside the doorway, unconscious or dead. Winter knew she had to have been HYDRA — one of the General's guards that Tony had taken care of when he boarded the ship.

Winter was just about to pull free from the Commander when they spotted movement inside. The grip around Winter's arm tightened when the shapes coming towards them became distinguishable. Winter let out a choked whine and took an instinctive step forward — Commander Rogers kept him from doing more.

Tony was stumbling along the uneven floor, hands held up in surrender. There was a trail of blood on the left side of his face — from a cut on his forehead — and a gun was pointing against his right temple. Winter could see that Tony's faltering steps weren't faked — the blow to his head had been bad enough to make Tony that unstable. The General was behind him, his arm wrapped around Tony's throat and a grim look on his face.

There was a burst of panic from Barnes, even if he tried to shove it down as quickly as possible. There was no stopping the helplessness, though — a feeling Winter shared. He hadn't been trained for these kinds of situations and had no idea what to do.

"In my defense, I _did_ stop the ship before getting captured," Tony said in greeting. There was pain underneath the forced cheerfulness, however, and Winter had to bite back another whine.

Commander Rogers was still holding on to Winter's arm but his gaze was fixed on the General.

"You can't win this, Pierce. Let him go." There was a lot of barely curbed anger in the Commander's voice.

The General's smile held no joy whatsoever. "Why would I release my bargaining chip?" Tony winced when the muzzle of the gun pressed harder against his temple, but otherwise remained motionless. He was clearly careful to keep his hands angled away from his body, meaning that the General probably knew the gauntlets were weapons and had ordered him to do so.

Winter swallowed, trying to breathe around the lump in his throat. Even though Winter still had his gun, he knew he and it were all but useless. He couldn't shoot the General and it was obvious that Tony would get hurt if he tried to step closer.

"I'm offering you the chance to surrender," the Commander replied, "but only if you let him go — unharmed."

"A bit late for that," Tony pointed out, gritting his teeth when his comment earned him another sharp nudge with the gun.

The General looked disturbingly calm. The battle within the hangar had been won by then — or so Winter assumed judging by the lack of gunfire — and it wasn't HYDRA who had come out victorious. Winter could see Alliance soldiers gathering in the corner of his eye, no doubt waiting for orders from the Commander.

Despite being surrounded, the General didn't look bothered. Winter felt a chill travel down his spine when that calculating gaze landed on him.

"You like this one, don't you?" the General asked.

Winter swallowed, trying to keep any involuntary sounds from slipping out. He did like Tony; he liked him so much that the thought of him getting hurt was frankly unbearable.

"If you help me escape, I'll let him live." The General held Winter's gaze, his tone eerily similar to when he used to give Winter his mission briefings. "If not, I'll shoot him here and now."

"Winter, don't—" Tony's protest turned into a strangled wheeze when the General tightened the grip he had around Tony's throat. It looked painful, Tony's hands flying up to futilely pull on the arm cutting off his air supply.

Winter wanted to rush forward and help — to drag Tony away from the General and back to safety — but he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"Shoot the Commander," the General ordered, voice calm and steady — hypnotic almost. "Or I'll kill your little pet."

Winter had obeyed that voice so many times that he automatically straightened his spine and gripped his gun tighter. Conflicting emotions were whirling inside of him. Winter had always thought that he would do anything to protect Tony, but he honestly wasn't sure if he could kill Commander Rogers. Winter didn't want to kill anyone — least of all Barnes' friend.

But could he do it to save Tony? Did he have a choice?

Fear and desperation made Winter's throat seize up. He was so caught up in his own emotions that he barely even registered Barnes'.

"Don't listen to him." Commander Rogers spoke so softly Winter doubted anyone else could hear the words. "He's lying."

Winter knew that. He didn't trust the General to keep his word. The problem was that Winter didn't know what else to do — how else to help Tony. The General had eased up enough that Tony could breathe again, but the gun was still pressing against his temple.

Louder, Commander Rogers said, "Final warning, Pierce. Let him go and surrender."

The General ignored him.

"Asset!" he barked instead, making Winter flinch. "Kill Commander Rogers. _Now_."

Had this been a couple of months ago, Winter would no doubt have obeyed without thinking, but this time he hesitated. He knew that killing Commander Rogers would have severe consequences, not only for his own conscience but the Alliance as well. As much as Winter wanted to save Tony, he didn't know if he could — not if it meant murdering someone else.

In his desperation, Winter met Tony's gaze, hoping to find his answer there. There was a surprising lack of fear in those warm, brown eyes. What Winter saw could best be described as urgency, followed by a meaningful flick downwards. Winter obediently followed the direction, feeling hope spark in his chest.

The General had forgotten about the gauntlets.

Tony's metal-clad fingers were resting against the arm wrapped around his throat and, given a moment of opportunity, he should be able to fire them and break free. The shot would have to be weak not to harm Tony as well, but Winter didn't doubt that Tony would take that into account. Winter had no idea if Commander Rogers had noticed the opening, but knew that he had to act regardless — before the General realized his mistake.

Winter pulled his arm out from under Commander Rogers' hand, took a step back, and raised his gun. Commander Rogers didn't look surprised to find it pointing straight at his face.

It was only a couple of seconds, but Winter hoped his movements offered a big enough distraction that Tony could fire his repulsors. The Alliance soldiers were all snapping to attention, preparing to defend their Commander, and for a frightening moment Winter thought he might have to go through with it and pull the trigger.

But then there was a short, high-pitched whine followed by a shout of pain. Winter saw Tony duck out from under the General's arm and slide down the ramp, then off the side and out of range. Commander Rogers had either been prepared for this or knew how to adapt to new situations at a split second's notice, throwing his shield the moment Tony was out of harm's way. This time the General didn't have time to duck entirely and the shield caught him in the left shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor.

At first, Winter was foolish enough to think it was over — at least until he saw the General move.

The next couple of seconds happened so fast Winter knew he wouldn't have had time to react if he hadn't done so on pure reflex.

Despite the pain he had to be in, the General managed to raise the gun clutched in his right hand. He didn't try to get up — his only goal seemed to be to take at least one of them with him as he went down.

Winter knew it wouldn't be him.

The Commander's shield hadn't rebounded properly after hitting the General's shoulder, so instead of returning it changed course, skittering across the floor and out of reach — leaving Commander Rogers completely exposed.

Without thinking, Winter took two quick steps to the side.

The first shot glanced off his shoulder. The second made him stumble backwards. The third knocked the breath out of his lungs.

He thought he heard someone scream but couldn't be sure, the sound distant in his ears. Winter had been shot before — multiple times — and as always the pain was excruciating. He tried to push it down, knowing the danger might not be over yet. He had to stay focused.

But the ringing in his ears was distracting — almost as distracting as the pain — and Winter's fingers came back covered in red when he touched his chest. Without so much as a warning, his knees buckled. There was someone there to catch him, lowering him to the ground with surprising gentleness.

Winter blinked away the dizziness but wasn't quite able to draw a breath with how much his chest was hurting. Barnes was thankfully spared from some of it, but Winter could sense a whole lot of pain from him as well.

"Easy. Easy," Commander Rogers soothed. He placed a firm hand on Winter's shoulder when he tried to sit up. "No, don't move."

Winter had second to wonder about the distress he heard in the Commander's voice, but was distracted when Tony appeared in his field of vision. Tony's skin looked unusually pale in contrast to the blood on his face, but he was there — whole and relatively well. The wound on his forehead looked nasty, but Winter knew it probably wasn't life-threatening.

"Send for a medic," Tony said, briefly glancing up at Commander Rogers. "Do what you have to do. I'll stay with him."

There was no verbal reply from the Commander — not one that Winter heard, at least — so he chose to focus on Tony, who was looking down at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Hey. Hi there, snowflake." Tony sucked in a deep breath, his fingers shaking when they carefully brushed hair away from Winter's forehead. There was a strange kind of urgency to the gesture, as if Tony was afraid that Winter would disappear at any moment. The touch was surprisingly soothing, especially since Tony must have folded back the gauntlets again, his fingertips warm against Winter's skin.

"You really need to stop doing this," Tony berated, his hands moving to put pressure on Winter's wounds. Well, two of them, at least — Tony didn't have enough hands for the third.

Winter wasn't sure what Tony was referring to and decided to ask a question instead of answering. "Are you okay?"

Tony let out a choked noise. "Will you please not ask me that when you've just been shot three times in the chest?" The words wobbled, which only increased Winter's concern. Tony must have noticed his displeasure because in the next second he was nodding, his eyes wide and glassy. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine, snowflake. Just fine."

That was a relief. Winter let out a soft sigh.

"I'm in much better shape than you are, in fact," Tony continued. He still couldn't seem to keep his voice steady, but his hands were. The constant pressure on Winter's wounds hurt a great deal — and made it difficult to breathe — but he knew better than to complain.

Winter was distantly aware of people moving around them and the sound of Commander Rogers shouting orders, but he didn't really bother to listen. He was more interested in Tony, even if he looked absolutely terrified at the moment.

Barnes was trying to stay awake but he had always been less adept at dealing with pain; Winter could tell that Barnes was moments away from losing consciousness. There was so much fear radiating from him, mingling with the agony.

"I can't believe you did that," Tony mumbled, teeth tightly clenched. "Will you ever stop taking shots meant for other people?"

If Winter had had an answer, he might have given it. At this point, however, he really wasn't sure. He didn't regret what he had done.

"Are you angry?" Winter asked, not liking the tightness around Tony's mouth and the furrow between his brows. It was getting difficult to focus, but that looked a bit like anger to him.

Tony shook his head, however. "No, snowflake, I'm not angry — just worried. You—" Tony swallowed, his smile trembling. "You're hurt real bad. That makes me worried."

That was nice. Tony being worried meant that he cared.

"Hey! No, no, look at me."

Winter hadn't even realized he had closed his eyes. He obediently did as told, blinking unsteadily up at Tony — who was looking more and more panicked.

"Stay with me, okay? Help is on the way."

The nod Winter offered was mostly to calm Tony. There were faint echoes of pain and distress from Barnes but he felt surprisingly distant. Winter realized that Barnes wasn't the only one losing consciousness.

"The General?" Winter mumbled, feeling his eyelids grow heavy despite his best efforts to keep them open. Three shots to the chest was clearly more than his accelerated healing could handle.

"One of the Alliance soldiers took him out seconds after he shot at you," Tony replied. "He won't be causing any more trouble."

That was good.

Had he been able to, Winter would have nodded. The problem was that he just felt so tired. He was blocking the pain as best as he could, but it was very tempting to escape it by embracing the darkness dancing at the edge of his awareness.

"Snowflake? Look at me."

Winter tried — he really did — but he just couldn't bring himself to. He didn't have any strength left.

"No, no, no. Winter, stay awake," Tony begged.

Tony's voice was beginning to sound distant too.

"Winter? Please don't do this."

If he could have avoided it, Winter would have; he didn't like it when Tony was upset. Winter wanted to hold on, but it was getting more and more difficult.

Barnes had already slipped away.

"Snowflake, you need to—"

Winter followed suit.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops?


	16. The Hero

 

* * *

 

The first time Bucky opened his eyes, he barely managed to register his surroundings before he slipped back into unconsciousness. The only thing he remembered was that the room had been clean, softly lit, and empty aside from him.

The second time Bucky opened his eyes, he was met by Steve's smile. It was cautious and tinged with worry, but just being able to _see_ Steve sent a wave of relief through Bucky. He suspected he must have given a loopy grin in return considering how Steve's tense shoulders lowered.

"Hi there," Steve said, voice achingly soft.

"Hi," Bucky mumbled in reply, blinking a couple of times to clear the last of the haze.

They were in the _Avenger's_ medical wing, Bucky assumed, recognizing the pale grey walls. The room was expectedly sterile, his bed, a small bedside table, and a visitor's chair the only pieces of furniture. The holoscreen on the wall — substituting for a window — showed a sunlit meadow, pale yellow flowers dancing in the gentle breeze. The view was probably supposed to be calming, but Bucky mostly found it hilarious and would have snorted if he hadn't been afraid of aggravating the holes in his chest.

"You've been asleep for five days," Steve explained. "The first three were medically induced, but the doctors weren't surprised that you needed the extra two before waking up." Steve spoke carefully, as if he was afraid that loud noises would somehow make Bucky's condition worse.

Then again, Steve had rarely been the one sitting next to the hospital bed — when they grew up he had been the one lying in it. The role reversal had to be unnerving for him.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked with the same gentle tone.

Bucky took a couple of seconds to figure that out. He was in pain — which was expected — but after having been shot three times in the chest he was grateful to be feeling anything at all. Bucky had been certain he and Winter wouldn't pull through this time.

His chest was a mess of aches and bruises — every breath causing a sharp sting of pain — and there was a dull throb in his right leg. Usually, a couple of days would have been enough to adequately heal a gunshot wound, but not even his body could keep up with five of them in such short succession, apparently.

Even so, he felt surprisingly alert — unlike his companion.

The barrier between them was gone by then and Winter was resting, curled up at the back of Bucky's head. There was a faint flicker of recognition and a dash of warmth — a greeting, of sorts — before Winter settled down again. Bucky decided it was better to let him be. Winter might only have been in control for two days, but those had been extremely eventful days — for Winter in particular. He had earned his rest.

"We were shot five times within forty-eight hours," Bucky eventually rasped out, meeting Steve's gaze with a tried, crooked smile. "I've been better."

Steve smiled back — weak and hesitant, as if he wasn't quite able to let go of his anxiety yet. Or maybe he felt like Bucky, fearing that all of this would somehow be taken away from them. The fact that Steve was here, solid and real, made Bucky all the more terrified of losing him. His friendship with Steve had always been one of Bucky's firm points in life — one of the things he would gladly die for — and he wasn't sure if he could stand losing it again.

Thanks to HYDRA, they had spent more years apart than together.

Steve cleared his throat. "Well, the medics expect you to make a full recovery," he said, "which is nothing short of a miracle considering how serious your injuries were." There was a brief silence, Steve's gaze lowering to the floor. His voice was significantly softer when he spoke next. "Without your accelerated healing, you would have died."

"Glad to hear that the virus is good for something after all," Bucky drawled.

Belatedly, he realized he probably shouldn't joke about the HYDRA virus — it wasn't something to laugh about. Tony might have appreciated the attempt at humor, had he been there, but Steve mostly looked pained — probably because he knew what Bucky had been like before the virus. To Tony, Bucky had always been like this, but Steve remembered a different time, making the subject a lot more painful.

Bucky pushed the thought aside, his priorities shifting. The next breath he took trembled, a sharp ache of longing flaring in his chest.

"Tony?" he asked, hoping that Steve would understand what he meant.

Bucky didn't blame Tony for not being there when he woke up, but he would love to see him as soon as possible. So many things had happened while Winter was in control — so many things that could have gone wrong — and Bucky desperately needed reassurance. He wanted to wrap his arms around Tony and bury his nose in his hair and just _cling_ to him for a couple of minutes.

Bucky missed the hum of the arc reactor and the smell of coconut and, to his dismay, might even miss being called Buckling — if only for the fondness Tony managed to infuse the nickname with.

Winter perked up when Tony was mentioned, but he was clearly less energetic than usual.

"He suffered a mild concussion and has some scrapes and bruises," Steve replied with a neutral smile. He got up from his chair and pushed a button on the small control panel on the wall. The head of Bucky's bed started rising. "Medical cleared him in less than a day," Steve assured, releasing the button when Bucky was slightly more upright. Bucky was grateful, since it made it much easier to see both Steve and the rest of the room.

Steve kept talking without giving Bucky a chance to ask more questions. "How much do you remember?"

Bucky's chest tightened; Steve was trying to change the subject. There was something about Tony that Steve didn't want him to know.

Steve had always been a tremendously bad liar.

"I saw everything Winter saw," Bucky replied distractedly — buying himself time.

He watched as Steve picked up the pitcher of water standing on Bucky's bedside table and poured a glass. He held it out and Bucky carefully raised his right arm. It felt weaker than he was comfortable with — and shook ever so slightly — but he managed to accept the glass without feeling any significant pain.

The water felt blessedly cool to Bucky's parched throat, but he couldn't quite push down his worry. Steve hadn't told him where Tony was now or if he was still okay, just that he had been cleared from medical days ago. A lot could have happened since then.

Winter twisted restlessly in response to Bucky's unease. They had learned a lot these past couple of weeks, both when it came to cooperating and trusting each other. When Winter noticed that Bucky was uncomfortable, he knew something had to be wrong.

"Then I guess you don't need—"

"Stevie," Bucky interrupted, fingers tightening around his water glass. "Tell me about Tony."

Steve gave him a look — a frustratingly blank look he must have learned sometime during the thirty-eight years they had been separated, since Bucky had never seen it before. Steve was usually quite expressive, at least to those who knew him. Being reminded of how much things had changed wasn't making Bucky feel any better, but he wasn't going to back down.

Thankfully, Steve hadn't changed so much that Bucky didn't recognize the conflicted guilt that bloomed a second later. There was concern there, too, meaning that Steve was withholding the information for Bucky's own sake, not because of something sinister.

Steve didn't have a sinister bone in his body.

"You should be resting," Steve said eventually. It was a statement more than an attempt to be overbearing — as if Steve already knew that the words wouldn't make Bucky change his mind.

They didn't. Bucky might be weak from his injuries but he'd been asleep for five days — he didn't need more rest. He'd rather know what was wrong with Tony.

"Just tell me, for fuck's sake." Bucky didn't have the patience for this — not when Steve's silence was making Winter so upset that he was almost whining. "I know there's something you're not telling me."

Steve sighed and gently took the glass from Bucky before placing it back on the bedside table. That was probably a good idea, seeing as Bucky might very well have shattered it otherwise.

After a slow breath — seemingly bracing himself for what he was about to say next — Steve met Bucky's gaze and replied. "He left."

Everything seemed to still.

"He left," Bucky parroted, not even able to phrase it like a question.

Winter let out a soft whimper.

"He stayed long enough to confirm that you and Winter would live, and then he left," Steve explained, his expression a mix between frustration and concern. The former meant for Tony, no doubt, and the latter for Bucky. "It took us over two hours before we even realized he was gone." Steve clearly didn't appreciate Tony's audacity — vanishing from under the legendary Commander Rogers' nose was no small feat. "We don't know how he managed to bypass our security measures, but somehow he snuck into the hangar and left in your ship. We tried but couldn't track him."

Bucky found himself staring at his lap, trying to push down his hurt while simultaneously soothe Winter's. Neither of his endeavors were going particularly well.

Tony had left.

Bucky could understand that, to some degree. The mission was done — the memory drive had been delivered and HYDRA was exposed — and Tony clearly had a life and responsibilities elsewhere. Tony couldn't sit idle by their bedside for five days, waiting for Bucky or Winter to wake up.

Even so, Bucky couldn't deny that he wished he could at least have gotten the chance to say goodbye. He knew he had no right to feel abandoned — Tony had never promised to stay — but Bucky still did.

Winter clearly felt the same, curling back up with a wounded whine. Bucky wanted to comfort him but didn't know how; the loss Winter was broadcasting wouldn't ease with a couple of kind, well-meaning words. There had always been something so incredibly innocent about Winter's infatuation, which probably only made it hurt more when Tony left without a word.

After a couple of seconds, Bucky realized he was expected to break the silence.

He cleared his throat, not quite able to meet Steve's eyes. "Yeah, he... he installed a stealth function in my ship."

A ship that Tony had now, technically, stolen from him. Bucky hadn't expected that.

Tony's bots and JARVIS's data drive were stored on it, but it was still Bucky's ship — a ship precious enough to him that he hadn't been able to part from her even when it might have cost him his life. He was pretty sure Tony knew that, and it surprised him that Tony would be cruel enough to take her.

Bucky refused to acknowledge what else he might have lost.

There was another loaded silence, Steve hovering next to Bucky's bed.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, voice soft. "I honestly didn't think he would leave, otherwise I would have kept a closer eye on him."

"It's okay," Bucky replied, even though it clearly wasn't. He had a hard time pushing down his disappointment, even more so considering how distraught Winter was. Odds were that Winter didn't understand why Tony would choose to leave, and Bucky prayed he wouldn't blame himself. Winter had done nothing wrong.

"S.H.I.E.L.D wants to question him," Steve continued, holding out a placating hand when Bucky's head snapped up in alarm. "It's nothing bad, Buck. He's not under arrest, but they need his account of the events."

Bucky wasn't surprised to hear that Steve had underestimated Tony's abilities. At first glance he might seem flippant and unreliable, but time and time again Tony had shown just how much he was willing to sacrifice for Bucky's mission — without as much as a thank you in return. On top of that, Tony was _incredibly_ skilled at what he did.

Bucky still didn't know much about Tony's armor, except that it had looked like nothing short of a masterpiece. He felt a twinge of sadness when he realized he might never get to see the full suit in action.

And Winter might never get to fly after all.

Bucky was grateful that Steve didn't ask why he was so upset by Tony leaving. Steve had to be curious about the relationship between Bucky and his self-proclaimed mechanic, but Bucky didn't exactly have an answer. He and Tony had never tried to define what they had, and perhaps it shouldn't surprise Bucky that it could end just as quickly as it had begun.

He would mourn it, though. Not just for the sex, but the intimacy and affection they had shared — how safe and cared for Tony had made him feel, for the first time in years.

Was it really that easy for Tony to throw all of that away? Tony had seemed so sincere — delighted by how close they had grown, despite moments of vulnerability. He had asked Bucky if he could keep him, yet he was the one who had left.

Right now, all Bucky could do was cling to his fragile — possibly foolish — hope that Tony intended to return.

Steve cleared his throat, drawing Bucky's attention back to their conversation.

"It should be fairly easy to locate him again, though." Steve's smile was that cautiously optimistic one, clearly attempting to cheer Bucky up.

Bucky was more confused than anything. When they met, Tony had been living in a messy workshop in Knowhere — that was about as remote as you could get, especially since the Alliance and S.H.I.E.L.D had no power in those regions. If Tony wanted to stay hidden, he definitely had the knowledge and means to make it happen.

Steve shrugged at Bucky's frown. "Tony Stark isn't exactly low profile."

"Tony... who?"

It was Steve's turn to frown. "Anthony Stark. He's the head of the Stark Conglomerate." His expression turned into a rather comical mix of surprise and disbelief. "You didn't know?"

The fact that Steve sounded apologetic only made it worse, somehow.

Bucky opened his mouth to reply but soon realized that he couldn't find the words. In the end he only managed a simple, "No."

He had known that Tony was rich, but not the extent of his wealth. Not even in his wildest dreams would Bucky have thought that Tony was a _Stark_. Even during the Great War the Starks had been rich and famous, known as creators of weapons and wondrous new technology.

It suddenly made a lot more sense that Tony had had a Stark gun in his workshop.

Bucky could tell that Winter was listening, but there was a surprising lack of emotions from him.

"The conglomerate is even bigger than it was back in our day, when Howard Stark was in charge of it," Steve said.

Bucky remembered that name — Howard Stark had been the head of the Stark family during the Great War. Howard Stark must have been Tony's father. And that meant that HYDRA had been bold enough to send Winter to kill two Starks, which had left Tony in charge of the empire.

"Entire planets are under Stark's authority at this point," Steve continued. Bucky wasn't entirely sure why Steve kept talking — Bucky certainly hadn't asked him to — but he couldn't deny that these were things he wanted to know.

He'd had no idea who he had been travelling with.

Heck, who he'd been having _sex_ with.

"Officially, his title is Governor General Stark." Again, Steve sounded apologetic.

Bucky was staring, trying to wrap his head around all the new information he was being given. It wasn't going particularly well. The Starks were on the same level as royalty — said to be spoiled and decadent — and yet Tony was one of the kindest, most compassionate people Bucky had ever known. Tony had risked his life for Bucky's mission without a second thought.

Bucky felt the room spin. What would have happened if Tony had died? He was a _Stark_ — what kind of impact would that have had on the galaxy?

How could Tony have been so _careless_?

"I honestly didn't know at first. It took me until I saw his reaction to Natasha to figure it out." Steve inched closer to Bucky's bedside, as if wanting to offer support through his proximity. Amazingly, it actually worked, too. "I should have picked up on it sooner, but I was a little... distracted. And he didn't exactly look like the Tony Stark from the billboards when wearing your oversized clothes."

Bucky swallowed and managed a twitchy nod, even if he didn't know what billboards Steve was referring to.

Steve remained silent for a couple of seconds before drawing a deep breath. "I think I know why he left."

That caught Bucky and Winter's attention, both of them eager for an explanation. Bucky nodded for Steve to continue.

"He froze his assets." Steve pulled up the chair and sat down, his gaze calm and steady when he looked at Bucky. "That hasn't happened in over thirty years — since HYDRA was supposedly defeated and it fell out of practice — so I was naturally informed. I probably would have been anyway, simply because it was the head of the Stark family who did it." Steve leaned forward, his elbows braced against his knees. "The repercussions of freezing the entire Stark Conglomerate are _unimaginable_."

Bucky blinked. He hadn't even thought of that.

"Stark's companies employ millions of people on hundreds of different planets, and each new day he remains MIA is a day they can't work. These past two weeks have been a nightmare for industries all over the galaxy because one of the biggest enterprises has been static."

Bucky could understand the worry he heard in Steve's voice; a lot of people had been affected by Tony's decision, down to the simplest, struggling factory worker. This was Bucky's fault. If he hadn't dragged Tony into this mess with HYDRA, this would never have happened — Tony wouldn't have been forced to freeze his assets.

"But..." Bucky swallowed down the flare of guilt and started over. "It's still better that he did, right?"

Steve nodded. "For the sake of the galaxy, yes. It will take months — maybe even years — to recover from the financial losses, but it's still better than the alternative."

"If HYDRA had gotten their hands on the Stark Conglomerate..." Bucky didn't even dare to finish the sentence — the knot of fear in his gut was proof enough of how terrifying that would have been.

Even Winter shivered at the thought.

"I would say he made the right call, given the circumstances," Steve offered.

Bucky exhaled. "He had to return to unfreeze his assets."

"That's my guess," Steve agreed. "The sooner he does, the better. Millions of lives depend on him and his companies."

"Holy _shit_." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face, ignoring how badly it was shaking — just as he ignored the sharp stab of pain in his chest at the sudden movement. "I didn't— if I had known I wouldn't have—"

"By the looks of it, you _didn't_ know," Steve interrupted. "It was Stark's choice not to tell you."

Bucky lowered his hand. "They actually had him." He elaborated when seeing Steve's raised eyebrows. "We were captured. HYDRA brought us onto one of their ships but they mustn't have recognized Tony either — they planned to kill him rather than assimilate him."

How different things would have been, if HYDRA had known who they had managed to capture. Tony was an even bigger prize than the runaway Winter Soldier; if you had resources like Tony's, you could conquer entire worlds.

Bucky finally understood why Tony was so afraid that Bucky would look at him differently once he knew who Tony was. This wasn't just finding out that Tony was rich and powerful — Tony was practically running a part of their galaxy. There were _kings_ who had less influence than that. Tony had so much power that it made Bucky dizzy just thinking about it.

Had Bucky been more aware of current events he might have figured it out sooner, but Winter hadn't exactly spent the past thirty-eight years keeping up with the news. Winter was aware that Stark Industries had stopped manufacturing weapons, but that was about it — he hadn't bothered to memorize the face of the current head of the Stark family.

Bucky blinked.

_Tony_ was the one who had shut down weapons manufacturing. Granted that it could only have been one part of a massive empire, but it was still what he was most famous for — Stark weapons had always been superior to other manufacturers.

"He was kidnapped," Bucky said aloud, his gaze meeting Steve's. "That's why he stopped building weapons."

Steve seemed surprised by the change in subject, but nodded soon enough. "I've only read the reports, but yes, they say that's why. A change of heart, the media called it."

"Literally," Bucky muttered.

Steve paused for a second. "You know about the arc reactor." His tone was cautious, which probably meant that wasn't common knowledge.

Well, the fact that Tony had kept it hidden was proof enough of that, Bucky supposed.

Bucky nodded. "He showed me." A weak smile made its way onto his lips. "I was so afraid of breaking it I barely even dared to touch it at first."

Too late Bucky realized he probably shouldn't have said that. It revealed a little too much about how intimate his and Tony's relationship had grown over the weeks they had spent together. Then again, Steve was no fool — he had to know already, seeing as Tony's comments had been far from subtle. Steve didn't ask, though, even if his responding smile held a hint of amusement.

Bucky would rather take that than pity.

He wasn't stupid enough to think that nothing had changed. Whatever he and Tony had shared probably didn't have much of a future; Tony had turned out to be light years out of Bucky's league.

Tony was still the same person, yes, but he had responsibilities beyond what Bucky could ever imagine. Or should have, at least. Bucky frowned when he realized that when he had first met Tony, he hadn't exactly seemed to be running a big conglomerate.

"I found him in Knowhere," Bucky said, looking at Steve. "He told me he was taking a sabbatical."

Steve looked thoughtful. "Well, there was another situation about a year ago. It didn't fall within my jurisdiction so I never read that report. S.H.I.E.L.D was involved, though, and I imagine that's when Natasha and Stark met."

"He disappeared after that?" Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. "Not officially, at least. I never heard anything about him being missing, but I guess he could have run everything through video conferences and Ms. Potts. She's his second in command," Steve clarified, when he noticed Bucky's confusion.

A brief silence settled. It was far from uncomfortable, but heavy all the same.

"So, basically, one of the most important people in the galaxy was living as a simple mechanic in Knowhere and no one noticed?" Bucky asked, not knowing whether the amusement he felt was entirely appropriate. Tony was _good_. "Not even S.H.I.E.L.D?"

Surprisingly, Steve actually smiled, albeit crookedly. "Well, in our defense, Stark specialized in communications and advancing technology once he stopped manufacturing weapons. His stealth technology is the best on the market — the same can be said for his security software. Tracking him is difficult."

Knowing just how good Tony was made Bucky feel proud, even though it might not be his privilege to do so. Winter let out a soft purr.

"So what makes you think you'll find him now?" Bucky asked, letting his head sink a little deeper into his pillow. "You said he shouldn't be difficult to find — to me it sounds like you couldn't find him even if you tried."

Steve paused, as if the question somehow surprised him. He studied Bucky's face, a slight wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

"You don't think he'll come back to see you." It was a statement, not a question.

Bucky stiffened, not entirely sure why he suddenly felt guilty. He averted his gaze and would have shrugged, had he not remembered the state his chest was in.

"He's got better things to do, right?" Bucky said, regretting it a second later — even before he felt the sharp, angry nudge from Winter.

Bucky was being unfair; Tony had never given him a reason to doubt his sincerity. Tony had offered Bucky and Winter everything he had — literally — and Bucky had no right to assume that Tony would abandon him now. If anyone had earned Bucky's trust, it was Tony.

This was merely Bucky's insecurities speaking — he didn't feel that he was worth returning _to_.

What could he possibly offer a Stark?

"No, wait," Bucky said when Steve opened his mouth to speak. The last thing Bucky wanted was for Steve to think badly of Tony. "I just... I think he would want to, but what if he can't? He's got important things to take care of and I'm just..." Bucky let out a deep sigh and waved his hand pathetically, not able to finish the sentence.

Steve shrugged. "You know him better than I do. I've only seen him through reports and the news — the former is only slightly more flattering than the latter. He's known for being irresponsible and selfish," Steve continued.

Bucky — and Winter — felt an immediate flare of protectiveness. Winter even growled.

"They're wrong," Bucky replied flatly. "He's not like that at all."

Steve raised an eyebrow, but he looked amused rather than condemning.

"Well fine, irresponsible, maybe," Bucky amended. Tony _had_ thrown himself straight into this mess heedless of the repercussions. "But he's not selfish, Steve. He's done everything he can to help me and Winter, no matter what it might cost him. He _refused_ to let me do this alone. I know he's a good man."

A smile was twitching on Steve's lips. "I guess you have your answer, then."

It took a second for Bucky to catch up. If Tony had given everything for Bucky and Winter so far, he probably wouldn't stop now. He'd find a way to come back, sooner or later — probably out of sheer stubbornness.

Steve, the bastard, had made Bucky undermine his own arguments.

"I fucking hate you," Bucky muttered sullenly.

Not that he minded — anything that gave him hope that he'd see Tony again was fine by him. He was just slightly offended that Steve had outsmarted him. Steve laughed — which almost made the frustration worth it, simply because of how great it was to hear him laugh again.

Bucky was fighting a smile of his own. "How did such a terrible liar become so good at manipulation?"

"Practice." Steve grinned. "You have no idea the number of diplomatic missions they've sent me on over the years."

Bucky choked on a laugh. "You? _Diplomatic_?"

"I'm a great negotiator," Steve defended indignantly, but his eyes were sparkling with joy.

It had been far too long since they had been able to have this — the familiar, lighthearted banter.

"As long as the negotiations involve your fists, maybe," Bucky teased.

"Okay, I admit that might have been the case on some occasions. However—" Steve spoke over Bucky's amused snort, "—I really have gotten better at it."

"Yeah, I know." Bucky's voice automatically grew a little softer. "I can tell."

Steve had changed quite a lot over the years. Bucky had seen it right away, in the way Steve held himself and how he talked. He was both smoother and sharper, somehow. He had years of experience commanding an army and somewhere along the way he had lost a lot of his innocence. Not his morals and conviction — never that — but Steve was definitely not the same optimistic, fumbling little spitfire he had been while they grew up.

The change wasn't necessarily bad — Steve still radiated reassurance and safety — but Bucky could tell Steve wasn't quite the same. Steve had a different kind of confidence now, and as happy as Bucky was to see Steve so secure in himself, he also felt slightly disoriented by it.

Speaking of dependable, Bucky realized there were things he had not yet asked about, even if they should probably have been his first concern.

"What about HYDRA?"

Did Steve even have the time to be sitting there, talking to Bucky? Shouldn't he be out organizing the arrest of the HYDRA spies?

Steve, to his credit, accepted the change in subject without batting an eyelash.

"The spies are mostly taken care of."

Bucky blinked. "What? Really?"

"You've been asleep for five days, Buck," Steve replied with a crooked smile. "We had to move fast. While Natasha was able to secure the communications deck, there was one transmission she couldn't stop before it had already reached a nearby ship." Steve let out a slow breath. "They were able to contain the HYDRA outbreak on that ship too, but it cost them a lot of lives. They were less prepared than we were."

Bucky swallowed and waited in silence for Steve to continue.

"Luckily, it didn't spread further than that, but we knew we had to apprehend the rest of the spies as quickly as possible — before they found out their general was dead." Steve met Bucky's gaze. "We set the plan in motion, only to realize that the HYDRA spies had picked up a thing or two from the soldiers during the Great War."

"Poison capsules?" Bucky guessed.

Steve nodded. "We lost a lot of them."

It came as no surprise that Steve sounded regretful. The HYDRA spies might be their enemies, but Steve had never been in favor of unnecessary deaths.

Steve cleared his throat. "There are still some that are unaccounted for — others who managed to flee — but thanks to the list we've been able to arrest the majority of the spies."

"HYDRA still has an army," Bucky said, his voice hoarse. The spies had only been a part of HYDRA's new empire.

"I know." Steve nodded. When he caught Bucky's gaze, his own was full of that firm, unrelenting conviction that had been so inspiring and comforting during the war. "We've beat them once and we'll do it again. They're without their general, we've exposed their spies, and they've already lost one of their fleets. We can win this."

Bucky's smile trembled. "Okay, then we will."

With Steve looking at him like that, there wasn't a doubt in Bucky's mind.

Winter remained quiet, which Bucky could admit worried him — Winter was usually pretty loud. But at least he seemed to have calmed down some, so Bucky hoped that Winter's silence was simply due to exhaustion.

Bucky looked at Steve, tilting his head to the side.

"Who was Pierce really?" Bucky asked. He had only known him as the general of HYDRA, and someone who had observed him and Winter during their training.

"One of the Alliance's council members — supposedly very reliable and respectable," Steve replied, his jaw clenching. "He arrived two days before you did, without warning. I thought it was odd at the time but I couldn't exactly tell my superior to leave. I guess he must have known you were coming and was trying to intercept the data drive."

"You didn't like him."

Steve shook his head. "No, not really. But that was mostly because he was a politician with a different mindset than my own — not because I suspected he was a traitor."

"His death will cause a lot of trouble, won't it?" Perhaps Bucky should have made an effort to sound at least a little regretful, but in the end decided that Pierce wasn't worth it. The man had held Tony hostage and tried to shoot Steve.

"It will cause quite a stir, yes," Steve agreed. "But it will also function as a wakeup call. Perhaps they'll be more careful about corruption from now on."

Bucky smiled crookedly. "Ever the optimist."

"I just maintain a faint hope that given a choice, most people will do the right thing," Steve replied with a shrug.

Some things never changed, it seemed, and Bucky couldn't help that his smile grew. Perhaps Steve hadn't lost his innocence completely — you just had to know where to look.

"Speaking of that..." Steve caught Bucky's gaze. "Winter is watching this, isn't he?"

Bucky would have stiffened, had he not seen the softness in Steve's eyes. He nodded instead, sending a soothing tendril of warmth towards Winter. Bucky knew about Winter's insecurities — how terribly afraid Winter was that Steve would see him as a monster.

Steve was smiling, however. "Thank you, Winter, for what you did. You didn't have to — and I admit I didn't expect you to — but you saved my life."

Winter was clearly taken aback, unsure of how to react. He had apparently not expected Steve's gratitude. Slowly but surely the surprise was replaced by shy, tentative hope, however, and by the end of it, Winter was practically radiating happiness.

As far as Bucky was concerned, Winter had every right to feel proud. Winter hadn't hesitated to do everything within his power to protect Steve. Dangerous as that had been, it showed just how far Winter had come and, like Tony would have said, just how good he was, deep down.

Bucky smiled, fondness glowing in his chest. He wasn't sure if Steve knew how much Winter needed to hear those words, but the fact that Steve had said them in the first place probably meant that he did.

"Winter has grown quite a lot since last time," Bucky said — unnecessarily, he supposed. Last time Winter had tried to kill Steve, and now he was prepared to sacrifice his own life to save him. The change was pretty obvious.

"Yeah, I can tell." Steve's gaze was still soft and kind. There was a slight tiredness to him as well, which Bucky didn't blame him for in the least, considering how hectic the past couple of days must have been. _He_ might have slept through the capture of all those HYDRA spies, but Steve definitely hadn't.

"He's..." Bucky hesitated, carefully picking his words to avoid hurting Winter's feelings. "He's not what either of us expected," was what he eventually settled for.

Both Bucky and Steve had considered Winter an enemy at the beginning — someone who wouldn't hesitate to hurt them if he could and was actively working against them. Bucky had fought Winter fiercely, simply because he had assumed that something created out of the HYDRA virus had to be bad.

They had been so incredibly wrong.

Steve nodded in understanding. "I look forward to getting to know him."

For a split second Bucky was surprised by the sincerity in those words, but then he remembered who he was talking to. This was _Steve_ , who believed that everyone had something good in them, or at least the potential to do better. As rocky as Steve and Winter's first meeting had been, Winter had definitely proven himself trustworthy since then.

Of course Steve would acknowledge that.

Winter was there to stay — there was no cure for the HYDRA virus and Bucky honestly wasn't sure if he would want it even if there was one — and Steve was obviously prepared to accept that. Things were different now, when it had turned out that Winter was a victim, not their enemy. Bucky had every intention of making room for Winter in his life, and it was a relief that Steve supported that.

There was a burst of excitement from Winter, laced with a hint of shyness, and Bucky found himself smiling so widely it actually kind of hurt a little.

"Winter would like that," Bucky replied. His breath trembled ever so slightly when he exhaled. "Thank you, Stevie, for..." Bucky wasn't even sure how to finish the sentence.

For being so caring and understanding? For making an effort to welcome Winter, despite the complicated circumstances?

Honestly, at this point Bucky was prepared to thank Steve merely for existing.

"Don't make it sound as if I did something amazing." Steve got to his feet, a fond smile on his lips. "Winter earned it. He saved my life — the data drive will save countless more."

Bucky couldn't do much else but nod.

Steve hesitated for a couple of seconds, his gaze lowering to the floor. When he looked up again, there was both pain and relief in his eyes.

"You look happier," he said while reaching out, tentatively touching Bucky's right hand. "When I found you all those months ago, I was... afraid. You were in so much pain." A sad furrow was growing between Steve's eyebrows. "That's why I didn't want to you leave. I wasn't sure what kind of state you would be in when you returned — if you returned at all."

There was a growing lump in Bucky's throat, his fingers closing around Steve's — perhaps a bit tighter than recommended. Steve didn't seem to mind. He just stared at their hands, a slow, gentle smile spreading on his lips.

"But you look happier. More... at ease. You're actually smiling, Buck." Steve met Bucky's gaze. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you back."

Bucky pressed his lips together — as if that would curb the sting behind his eyelids.

"I think I do, actually."

He felt the same, after all. Bucky had no idea what the future held for someone like him — an ex-HYDRA assassin who had miraculously managed to switch sides, all while carrying a parasite he had grown to trust and care for — but it was good to be back. He had Steve and somehow they'd make this work. That was what Steve _did_.

Where Tony fit into this — if at all — Bucky wasn't sure, but he hoped to find out. He truly hoped Tony would come back, if only so they could say goodbye properly.

"I should let you rest." Steve squeezed Bucky's hand. "You're still far from recovered."

Bucky wasn't particularly tired — physically, at least — but he definitely needed some time to process everything new he had learned. He relaxed against the pillows and nodded. Winter was settling down as well, lazily curling up at the back of Bucky's head.

"I'll come by later tonight," Steve promised.

Bucky smiled and offered another nod. He held on to Steve's hand long enough to give it a grateful squeeze, then let go.

Bucky kept smiling long after Steve had left the room.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tony is totally a space prince. Well, not literally, but close enough. I couldn't help myself!
> 
> We're soon done, my lovelies! There's just one more chapter and a short but fluffy epilogue to go!


	17. The Governor General

 

* * *

 

Bucky couldn't help feeling guilty as he looked down at the tablet in his lap. The screen was displaying a wide array of links, vids, and photos — all of them involving Tony somehow.

Another three days of recovery had passed and Bucky was able to sit more or less upright and move his arms with only the occasional stab of pain. He was still forbidden to get out of bed — as decreed by the medics and enforced by Steve — which naturally resulted in a bad case of boredom. Neither Bucky nor Winter were used to being idle.

In order to silence Bucky's constant nagging, Steve had given him a tablet. That way he could at least find himself something to read or watch, rather than stare sullenly at the peaceful fake meadow on the holoscreen for hours on end.

It didn't surprise Bucky that his first search was 'Anthony Stark.'

He wasn't even sure if it had been a conscious decision — his fingers seemed to have moved on their own accord — but he felt guilty once he realized what he had done. Tony had made it all too clear just how afraid he was that his history would make Bucky dislike him, and now Bucky was staring straight at it.

Wasn't it a breach of trust to learn about Tony's reputation this way? Did Bucky even _want_ to know what the rest of the galaxy thought of Tony?

The only news Bucky had gotten during his medbay confinement were through Steve, who no doubt filtered the content to avoid upsetting him.

Just the day before, Steve had told him that the Stark Conglomerate was up and running again, meaning that Tony had made it back home and had managed to unfreeze his assets. That was a relief both because it meant that Tony was alive and well, and that all those innocent people who had been affected by the halt in production could get back to work. Bucky admittedly cared more about the former than the latter, but Steve had been kind enough not to point that out.

In fact, Steve had been suspiciously careful not to reveal his personal opinions of Tony. If Bucky wasn't mistaken, that meant that Steve didn't like Tony very much but was trying not to let it show for Bucky's sake.

That made Bucky worry.

He could tell that Steve didn't _hate_ Tony — if Steve thought Tony was bad news he would no doubt have said so, in some misguided attempt to save Bucky's virtue — but he was clearly not Tony's biggest fan. The answer as to why probably lay in Tony's past. Steve didn't usually dislike people without a reason, and if he had something against Tony, Bucky would very much like to know why.

But was it worth possibly breaking Tony's trust?

The entire situation left Bucky feeling conflicted, and Winter wasn't of much help. Bucky could tell that Winter was curious about Tony, as always, but reading gossip about him — when Tony so clearly disliked that aspect of his life — made Winter as indecisive as Bucky. Neither of them wanted to go behind Tony's back.

Bucky couldn't help feeling that he _should_ know, though. Not for his own sake — he honestly didn't care about Tony's history — but if Tony ever came back, it was better if Bucky knew what to expect. He and Tony could no longer exist in their sheltered little bubble and if Bucky remained ignorant, someone might try to use that against him. Tony had already attempted to keep him at arm's length with his reputation as an argument, and Bucky wasn't going to let that happen again.

In the end, it came down to simple strategy. If Bucky wanted to avoid Tony's reputation causing a rift between them, he needed to know what kind of reputation Tony had to begin with. It clearly mattered to Tony, so if Bucky was going to be able to convince Tony that he loved him, he needed to show that he knew about both the good and the bad and wanted him regardless.

Bucky froze, his chest squeezing. That was the first time he had put a label on his feelings.

He loved Tony.

Bucky knew there was no other word for what he felt, but admitting it was still terrifying. He hadn't thought himself capable of love after what HYDRA had done to him, and Bucky honestly felt a little disoriented. Love immediately made everything twice as complex.

He and Tony didn't exactly have a future together, did they?

But even if they didn't, Bucky wanted Tony to know. Tony _deserved_ to know just how amazing and lovable he was — that Bucky wanted nothing more than to keep him safe and happy for as long as he was allowed. Tony needed to understand how precious he was.

Bucky knew that his love might not be much and worth less than the immense riches Tony already possessed, but it was Bucky's to give and he couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more.

Bucky took a deep breath before looking back down at the tablet. Even just reading the headlines made him grit his teeth; he was definitely not going to enjoy this.

"You can look away if you want to," he pointed out when he felt a stir of anger from Winter.

The reply was a disgruntled growl, but Winter didn't retreat. He was clearly determined to watch this too. Bucky didn't know of Winter's motivations, but he couldn't deny that he was grateful to have company. Bucky was no doubt going to need someone to vent to before this was over — preferably someone as protective of Tony as he was.

"Okay," he mumbled softly, clicking the first link, "here we go."

Being a guest on the _Avenger_ was both relaxing and frustrating. The ship itself reminded Bucky of the ones he'd been stationed on during the war — the familiarity comforting to his frayed nerves — but the difference was that he didn't actually have anything to do this time around.

He hadn't been reinstated — he wasn't even sure if he _wanted_ to be — and was therefore without tasks and was excluded from all the important meetings about the inevitable war against HYDRA. Bucky had offered to help, of course, since he had a lot of experience and information about them, but so far he hadn't been asked to attend. Steve assured him that they would come to him if they needed his assistance, though, and Bucky knew Steve wouldn't lie about something like that.

Despite the fact that Steve had a lot of responsibilities he should be focusing on, he still came to visit Bucky as often as possible. Spending time with Steve was as comforting as it was confusing. There were so many things Bucky didn't know about Steve now — things that Steve had experienced during the thirty-eight years that Bucky hadn't been a part of — and it was no doubt going to take a while before they had worked their way through them.

Thankfully, the foundation for their friendship was still there. It was a relief just how easy it was to fall back into old, familiar patterns — to know that despite his years with HYDRA, Bucky was still worthy of Steve's friendship. Both of them had changed, of course, but not so much that they didn't recognize each other. They were still best friends.

That was more than Bucky had dared to hope for.

Even if Steve tried to keep him busy, Bucky's lack of responsibilities meant that he was left with a lot of time on his hands. And that was no less boring even when he was eventually allowed to get out of bed. He was still sore and had to move noticeably slower than usual, but he knew better than to complain. He and Winter had been close to dying so he should be happy he was moving at all.

When Bucky was alone and wasn't distracting himself with reading or holovids, he spent a lot of his time thinking — mostly about Tony.

The hours he and Winter had devoted to familiarizing themselves with Tony's history and reputation had been a frustrating and terrifying experience. Not only because of the horrible things people were saying about him, but because Tony had looked completely different.

There was just something _wrong_ with the way Tony smiled and spoke whenever he knew someone was watching. Winter had even snarled at the sight, which had surprised Bucky a great deal — Winter was usually extremely partial to Tony and liked almost everything about him. But Winter obviously didn't like Tony's public persona, perhaps because he could tell how fake it was.

The Tony they had watched charm and seduce his way through interviews was nothing like the Tony they knew. He had always been flirty, yes, but Tony's lines had lacked their usual sincerity and his jokes had been hollow — meant simply to please the crowds.

The common consensus seemed to be that while Tony wasn't outright hated, he was despised by most — if not for his actions and attitude, then for his money and influence. Bizarrely, a lot of people had criticized him even when he was trying to do good, like shut down weapons manufacturing to instead focus on improving technology.

It all made very little sense to Bucky.

Despite how disorienting it had been, Bucky was still glad he had looked Tony up. Tony's fears made more sense now, as well as Steve's reaction to the man. Tony had been involved in a lot of things that Steve didn't support, and the persona Tony adopted while in the public eye had to be incredibly jarring to Steve's sense of duty and honesty. Not even Bucky could deny that had he read all this before meeting Tony, he would no doubt have judged him more harshly.

When looking at the interviews and headlines, Tony was nothing more than an irresponsible playboy who cared for no one but himself.

Bucky didn't believe that, however. He was one of the lucky few who had gotten to know the real Tony, and he intended to embrace that. Bucky had even managed to catch glimpses of his Tony in the reports from the past two years, after Tony had been kidnapped and set about changing his life. That was when the Tony Bucky knew had started to come through, and that was the only Tony that mattered.

After Bucky had gotten some time to think on it, he realized he wasn't the least bit worried. The galaxy — and Steve, to some degree — might think that Tony was selfish and unreliable, but Bucky knew better. Despite everything that he had read, his opinions on Tony hadn't changed. Tony was one of the most self-sacrificing and considerate people Bucky had ever known.

Then again, Bucky was pretty partial, because he _also_ knew how adorably disoriented Tony looked in the mornings before he got his coffee, and how he loved to snuggle up for warmth before falling asleep. Bucky knew what it felt like to run his hands through Tony's untamed hair and the addicting taste of his kisses.

That was the Tony that Bucky loved — nothing was ever going to change that.

Whether or not Bucky would ever get to see Tony again, well, that was another matter. But Bucky knew that he was never going to regret falling in love with Tony, and would never forget just how much Tony had done for him. As bittersweet as their ending might have been, Bucky was going to cherish the time they'd had together. The days spent with Tony, just the two of them on Bucky's ship, were amongst the happiest Bucky had ever known.

For a couple of breathtaking, blissful days Bucky had known what it felt like to be a part of Tony's world — to hold such a beautiful, bright star in his arms — and he would never regret that.

Tony was without a doubt one of the best things ever to have happened to him.

Almost three weeks after the HYDRA outbreak, Steve called Bucky to his office.

Bucky and Winter were almost completely recovered by then, if a couple of scars richer, and both of them were going stir-crazy from the inactivity. Winter was easier to distract with books and holovids — on account of how limited his experience was — but that wasn't exactly helping when he needed Bucky's eyes to watch them and Bucky got restless far too quickly.

Bucky was _dying_ for something to do and, if he was lucky, Steve was finally about to give him a task that might distract him from the boredom.

"You wanted to see me?" Bucky greeted when the doors slid open and he could step into Steve's office.

The room was very modest for a commander, but exactly what Bucky had expected out of Steve. The few pieces of furniture were comfortable but simple in design, prioritizing functionality over extravagance. There were few decorations — no signs of the office belonging to anyone of Steve's rank or impressive history — and overall pretty boring. The only luxury Steve had allowed himself was the view, big windows showing the wide, dark reaches of space outside. Bucky had been in Steve's office several times before and more often than not, he found himself standing there, gazing out at the stars.

Steve rose from his chair with a surprisingly enthusiastic smile. During the past couple of days, Steve had grown steadily more serious, the impending war with HYDRA demanding more and more of his attention. To see him excited was a relief, of course, but Bucky couldn't help wondering what had changed.

"How are you two feeling?" Steve asked, rounding his desk to face Bucky.

"We feel fine," Bucky replied, somewhat suspiciously. Steve already knew that Bucky and Winter had been cleared by the medics. There were times when Bucky's attention might have slipped the past couple of days — mostly when he found himself missing Tony — but he knew it hadn't happened often enough that Steve needed to worry.

Bucky refused to acknowledge that he might very well have to get used to the thought of missing Tony — possibly for the rest of his life.

"Good." Steve nodded, smile still playing on his lips. "I have a meeting in a couple of minutes and I thought you'd want to be here."

Bucky felt a surge of gratefulness.

"What do you need me to do?" Bucky was no stranger to helping Steve with his plans for various missions and maneuvers. It had been years since last time, sure, but he knew he hadn't forgotten how. In all honesty, the training HYDRA had given him and Winter probably only made him a better at it.

Steve blinked, looking momentarily confused. He caught himself quickly, however, shaking his head.

"No, not like that, Buck. It's not about the war." Steve paused for a second before amending. "Well, _the meeting_ is about the war, but that's not why I asked you to come."

Bucky frowned. "Then why?"

"I received a transmission from Stark Industries yesterday. Due to the up-and-coming war with HYDRA, they wish to offer their support to the Alliance in the form of equipment and supplies. We're having a meeting to work out the details." Steve smiled gently. "They should arrive within a couple of minutes.

Understandably, Bucky's heart skipped a beat.

"They?" Bucky asked, his voice faint.

"Ms. Potts and Governor General Stark." Steve placed a gentle hand on Bucky's shoulder, no doubt to stop Bucky from swaying.

"Tony's coming?"

Hope was growing in Bucky's chest, making it difficult to breathe. Winter was practically vibrating with eagerness.

"Yes," Steve confirmed, his voice soft. "I thought you — both of you — would want to see him."

Bucky nodded, perhaps more frantically than he had intended — he chose to blame Winter's infectious enthusiasm. "Yes, I want to see him." There was a sharp nudge from Winter. "We. _We_ want to see him," Bucky corrected.

There were few things Bucky wanted more at that point. He had spent _days_ trying his best not to think of Tony and was close to bursting from the longing — he was definitely not going to miss the opportunity to see him.

Besides, Tony must have gone out of his way to come to the _Avenger_. The meeting with Steve could easily have been handled over a video conference, but Tony chose to come there in person. Bucky wasn't stupid enough to think there wasn't a reason for that, and no matter how presumptuous it might make him, he was almost positive that he and Winter were that reason.

Tony wanted to see them too.

"Good." Steve offered him a decisive nod, clearly pleased with Bucky's decision.

"I thought you didn't like Tony." The words slipped out before Bucky could stop them.

Steve paused, tilting his head to the side. "Even if I don't, you do."

"That's not an answer," Bucky pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve let out a short laugh before squeezing Bucky's shoulder. "No, I guess not. But I've been told that I have ridiculously high standards and should learn to be more forgiving. I was clearly wrong about Winter, so the least I can do is give Stark a chance to prove that he's better than he's let on so far."

"He helped us." Bucky couldn't help the fierceness in his voice. "Winter and I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him — you would never have gotten that memory drive if Tony hadn't helped."

Steve smiled. "I know, Buck — that's what I'm trying to say. I'll give him a chance."

Bucky knew he had to settle for that — Steve was stubborn to a fault and this was better than nothing. As long as Steve stayed true to his word, which he always did, Tony would no doubt be able to sway him eventually.

That didn't make Bucky any less nervous while he and Steve waited for Tony and Ms. Potts to arrive. It might only have been a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. Bucky didn't even realize that he was pacing until Steve cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow. Steve looked amused rather than condemning, however, so Bucky didn't do more than roll his eyes in reply.

Winter snickered.

By the time the AI announced that Steve's guests would join them shortly, Bucky was full of nervous tension. Most of it was the good kind — eagerness to see Tony again — but he was worried too. He wasn't sure how Tony would behave and what was expected of Bucky in return. Tony might not be with the military but he was still of a much higher rank, which meant that Bucky technically wasn't allowed to treat him with as much familiarity as he had these past couple of weeks — not without expressed permission. But if Bucky _didn't_ , Tony would assume that Bucky was trying to put distance between them.

Bucky's arms were crossed over his chest, fingers drumming restlessly. Steve gave him a look that was probably meant to be calming, but Bucky was too far gone to appreciate it. His responding smile was more of a grimace than anything else.

When the doors finally slid open, Bucky was so on edge that Winter had taken it upon himself to try and calm him down. That said quite a lot, seeing as it was usually the other way around.

Bucky didn't recognize Tony at first. The man that stepped into Steve's office was miles away from the ruffled, oil-smeared mechanic Bucky knew. Tony was dressed in a light grey suit that probably cost more than Bucky's entire wardrobe, his usually unruly hair nicely styled and goatee neatly trimmed. He still moved with the same grace as always, but it had an air of importance this time — his back straight and head held high.

This was the Tony from the billboards.

Winter was holding back a displeased growl while Bucky tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. He wasn't sure what to do with this Tony; he looked like a complete stranger, and an arrogant one, at that.

Tony only gave Steve a cursory glance — much like Bucky barely even registered the woman walking behind Tony — before his focus shifted. Judging by the flicker of surprise on Tony's face, he hadn't expected Bucky to be there.

Their gazes met and Bucky felt relief wash through him. There was warmth in Tony's eyes, sparking just under the surface, and a wide, giddy smile started spreading on Tony's lips — as if the mere sight of Bucky was enough to make him want to burst with happiness.

_That_ was the Tony Bucky knew, full of life and purpose.

"Governor General Stark," Steve greeted, his tone less formal than Bucky had expected.

Tony still flinched. His gaze flickered to Steve, then back to Bucky — clearly searching. The intensity in Tony's eyes made Bucky stiffen, but he knew that there was no surprise shown in his expression; Tony's title wasn't news to him.

A split second too late, Bucky realized his mistake.

The moment Tony seemed to understand what Bucky's lack of reaction meant, his face paled. There was a flash of panic and devastation, so easy to spot in those big, brown eyes of his — even if Tony did his best to smother it. He swallowed tightly, his gaze snapping down to stare at the floor. When he looked up again, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. The smile had disappeared, replaced by an expressionless mask that made Winter hiss.

When Tony squared his shoulders and turned his painfully blank gaze towards Steve instead, Bucky knew that Tony had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Not that Bucky could blame him, because Bucky was still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a disturbingly empty look on his face. It was a reflex both he and Winter shared when distressed, but in this situation it gave Tony all the wrong impressions.

Tony must think that Bucky was angry with him — that Tony's title really had changed things between them, beyond repair.

"Commander Rogers," Tony greeted, voice flatter than Bucky had ever heard it, "thank you for meeting us on such short notice."

Bucky hadn't even said a word and he had still managed to ruin everything in a matter of seconds. Tony was closing himself off with such ruthless efficiency that Bucky knew this couldn't be the first time Tony had found it necessary to hide just how much he was hurting.

Bucky felt sick knowing he was the cause.

The only emotion he could detect on Tony's face was resignation. Tony accepted what he perceived to be a rejection without complaints — as if it had been _expected_ of Bucky to turn him down.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Bucky had _promised_ that his opinions wouldn't change when he found out the truth, and he had kept that promise. He didn't care about Tony's title or history — he still loved him, no matter what — and he had to do something quick, politeness and ranks be damned.

Winter was snarling in anger — clearly directed at Bucky this time.

Tony gestured towards the redheaded woman standing next to him. "This is Virginia Potts, she's—"

His words cut off when Bucky moved, Tony's eyes widening in surprise. Bucky even saw a flash of fear that made his gut clench, but he didn't let that stop him. He didn't stop until he had stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Tony and pull him in for a tight hug, nose pressed against Tony's temple. Tony didn't quite smell the same — the product in his hair overpowering the scent of coconut — but this was still familiar. Bucky closed his eyes.

Tony was stiff, standing motionless in Bucky's arms — as if unsure of what to do and how to react, so tense that he was almost shaking. Even without looking at him, Bucky could tell that Tony was terrified, and it broke Bucky's heart to know that he had caused it, even if it had been unintentional.

"Relax, sweetheart," he mumbled, his right hand curling gently around the back of Tony's neck. "Everything's fine." His lips brushed softly against Tony's temple. "It's okay."

Tony finally moved. Hands grasped for purchase, Tony's fingers closing around the fabric of Bucky's sweater while he buried his face against Bucky's neck. Tony clung to him with a desperation that made Bucky's chest ache.

He didn't know what else to do but tighten his hold.

Bucky kept mumbling comforting reassurances even if he didn't bother to register the exact words. He was too distracted by the soft hum of the arc reactor, pressed so closely against his own chest that he could almost feel the vibrations. Tony felt so _warm_ and _real_.

Bucky hadn't thought he would get to have this again.

His left hand slid down the smooth curve of Tony's back, helpless against the need to feel and touch. Tony trembled in response, and Bucky almost choked on the relief rising inside of him. It felt unbelievably good to have Tony in his arms again — to be able to hold him and feel the thump of his heartbeat inches from Bucky's own. Tony's breaths were warm puffs of air against Bucky's neck, his lips so close that Bucky could feel them against his bare skin.

Bucky wanted to hold on and never let go.

Winter was in obvious agreement, settling down now that Tony was safe in their embrace.

Distantly, Bucky heard Steve and Ms. Potts exchange a couple of words, then the hiss of the doors. Bucky was grateful that the other two were kind enough to offer him and Tony some privacy. Perhaps Bucky should have felt guilty over delaying an important meeting, but he couldn't find it within him to care. Bucky had been missing Tony for three weeks by then and decided to be selfish, at least this once.

Besides, Tony didn't seem very inclined to let go either.

When Bucky tried to draw back, Tony's grip on Bucky's shirt only tightened, the act achingly desperate.

"Shh." Bucky pressed a soothing kiss against Tony's temple. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not letting go."

Tony didn't move, his face still hidden against Bucky's neck.

Bucky let his fingers slide into Tony hair, taking an almost childish glee in ruining the perfectly styled locks. Tony's hair was supposed to be messy, standing every which way and falling carelessly against his forehead. There were no complaints from Tony — he actually seemed to lean into the touch, if anything.

He still remained silent, however, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Bucky would have to be the one to break the stalemate. So with utmost gentleness, Bucky cupped the back of Tony's head, his lips brushing against Tony's ear.

"Can I keep you?" he whispered.

A beat of silence, then Tony finally looked up. There was a painful amount of desperation in his eyes, but also steadily growing hope. Tony hesitated, his gaze flickering almost nervously as he searched Bucky's face. After a couple of seconds, Tony seemed to find whatever answer he had been looking for.

He let out a short, trembling exhale before he surged upwards, pressing a hopeful kiss against Bucky's lips.

Bucky held back a whine of relief and pulled Tony closer, needing to decrease the distance between them. Tony came willingly, just as eager as Bucky. The tip of Tony's tongue soon brushed against Bucky's bottom lip and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

He was lost within a matter of seconds.

The taste of Tony, the smell of him and the sound of his heart beating, was enough to make Bucky's head spin. He was drowning in sensations, making no attempt to fight it — not when this was everything Bucky could ever want, and exactly what he thought he would never have again. He poured every single ounce of his love and longing into the kiss, holding on to Tony as he if never wanted to let go.

Bucky was pretty sure he _couldn't_ let go — not without losing a part of himself.

The kiss was deep and searing, the intensity enough to make Bucky's hands unsteady and his heart race in his chest. Tony let out a soft, needy little moan, pliant and trusting in Bucky's arms. That noise, so familiar and intoxicating, made something inside Bucky's brain go haywire, his gut tightening from want.

He wasn't even aware of having lifted Tony off the ground until he felt legs wrap around his hips. The approving sound coming from Tony was positively sinful; he didn't even seem fazed by the manhandling. At that point Bucky figured that he might as well make the most of it and took the necessary steps to reach Steve's desk. As soon as Tony had settled on the desktop, he spread his legs wider to give Bucky more room, pulling him deeper into the kiss. It was gratifying to know that Bucky wasn't the only one feeling eager and a little bit desperate after three weeks apart.

One smooth, sensuous roll of Tony's hips and Bucky found it difficult to remember his name, let alone how to breathe. Tony was definitely going to be the death of him one day.

Bucky got the distinct impression that Winter was rolling his eyes.

That small interruption was enough to make some of Bucky's sense return. As much as he wanted to throw decency out the airlock and have sex with Tony right there on Steve's desk, Bucky was pretty sure it would be bad manners to do so. Steve would, in all probability, kill him for it, in fact.

Not to mention that he and Tony hadn't talked yet, which was definitely something they should do _before_ getting naked, just to avoid possible misunderstandings. Sex might have been embarrassingly high on Bucky's list of priorities, but he knew he had to curb that for at least another couple of minutes.

He was _not_ going to fuck up what might very well be his only chance to set things right.

It was with much reluctance that Bucky made himself break the kiss, sucking in a deep breath in a vain attempt to clear his head — all that did was give him a lungful of Tony's scent.

He stroked Tony's cheek with his thumb. "Tony—"

"I'm sorry."

Bucky froze, surprised by how quickly Tony had blurted out the apology. He met Tony's gaze, relieved to find that Tony wasn't trying to hide behind that eerily blank mask of his anymore. He still looked far from comfortable, his eyes full of trepidation and unease.

Tony swallowed, words falling from his lips in an almost frantic jumble. "I had to leave, but please believe me when I say that I didn't want to. And I know that I should have contacted you earlier and explained _why_ I left, but I figured you must hate me — which I don't blame you for — so what was the point? I didn't mean to—"

"I know why you left, Tony," Bucky interrupted, making sure to smile.

"You do?" Despite his surprise, Tony's fingers curled around the bottom of Bucky's shirt, as if he needed something — or someone — to hold on to. The gesture was so disarmingly innocent that it made Bucky's heart clench.

"You had to unfreeze your assets." Bucky's fingers combed soothingly through Tony's hair, his smile growing when Tony's eyes fluttered close, a look of tentative bliss spreading on his face. "It's okay. I understand."

Tony's shoulders lowered in obvious relief, followed by a weak nod. Bucky took the opportunity to press a kiss against Tony's forehead.

"You did good," Bucky praised. "I'm proud of you."

Tony let out a short, huffing sound — something in between a laugh and a sob — before he opened his eyes, looking up at Bucky. Tony swallowed, his right hand rising to brush gently against Bucky's chest, the other still holding on to the bottom of Bucky's shirt.

"Is Winter okay?"

Bucky could understand Tony's concern. Winter was the one Tony had spoken to last but now Bucky was in charge — Tony couldn't know if anything had happened to Winter, not when both of them had still been unconscious when Tony left.

"He's okay," Bucky assured. He placed his left hand over Tony's and pressed them both against his chest, so that Tony would be able to feel the steady beat of Bucky's heart against his fingers. "We're both okay. It took a while for us to heal, but we're fine." The surge of warmth and eagerness from Winter almost overpowered Bucky's own. "Winter says hi."

A soft, fond smile spread on Tony's lips. "Hello, Winter."

If Tony sounded a little breathless, Bucky decided not to judge him for it.

Winter, on his part, purred from delight, as always when Tony spoke directly to him.

"Speaking of that..." Tony pulled his hand out from under Bucky's and reached up to remove his near-invisible earpiece. Without explanation, he carefully pushed Bucky's hair aside and slipped it into Bucky's ear instead. "Say hi."

Bucky gave Tony a confused look but received nothing but an encouraging nod in reply.

"Uh, hi?" Bucky said obediently.

"Mr. Bucky," JARVIS's smooth voice greeted through the earpiece, "may I say that it is a pleasure to hear from you again."

The rush of relief made Bucky grin so wide his cheeks hurt.

"Right back at ya, JARVIS. You doin' okay?"

"Very much so, sir. The memory files from the Knowhere servers were uploaded without complications."

Bucky knew that already — if the transfer had failed, JARVIS wouldn't have known who Bucky was — but it was nice having it confirmed by the AI himself. They might only have known each other for a couple of days, but those had been very important days for Bucky, made all the better now that JARVIS remembered them as well.

"You will also be pleased to hear that U and Butterfingers have been completely restored," JARVIS continued.

"That's definitely good news," Bucky replied, feeling one of the tight knots in his chest loosen. "I'm glad the bots are okay."

The look on Tony's face was unbelievably tender. There was awe there too — as if Bucky's concern for Tony's AI and bots was enough to take Tony's breath away. A small smile was spreading on Tony's lips, the frailty of it somehow making it all the more precious.

Bucky was so distracted by Tony that he almost forgot to listen to JARVIS.

"Mr. Bucky, please allow me to express my gratitude to you for taking care of Sir while I was indisposed." The amount of sincerity in the AI's voice would have been shocking, had Bucky not been used to it already. "Sir has a tendency to throw himself into trouble without regards for his own safety, so it is comforting to know that he has someone to look after him."

Had Tony been able to hear JARVIS's side of the conversation, he would no doubt have protested at that — or at the very least rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Bucky let out a soft laugh, smiling fondly at Tony. "Anytime, JARVIS. Both me and Winter happen to be quite fond of him."

JARVIS still hadn't met Winter, but Bucky suspected that Tony had at least informed the AI about him.

"Okay, that's enough of you two conspiring against me," Tony decided, taking the earpiece back and reinserting it into his own ear. "I don't know what the two of you were talking about, but I know it can't have been good." Despite his disgruntled words, Tony was smiling.

Bucky smiled too, even if he knew that the moment of lightheartedness wouldn't last. There was still too much hanging between them, and sure enough, an awkward silence soon settled over the room. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. The fact that Tony was still sitting on Steve's desk with Bucky standing between his parted legs didn't help, the position distractingly intimate.

To be honest, Bucky couldn't say that he was very fond of talking about his feelings. He could if he had to, but he much preferred action over words. Unfortunately, this was one of those times when simply acting would be the wrong option. Some things needed to be said, and Tony sure as hell wasn't going to take the initiative judging by how he'd handled every serious conversation they'd had so far.

Bucky took a deep breath in preparation and glanced downwards, only to pause, distracted by what he saw. He couldn't help the surprised chuckle that escaped him.

"Hey, look at that. You're wearin' shoes." Bucky tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look. "Nice shoes, even." They looked to be within the same price range as the suit — meaning much too expensive for Bucky — but they did look nice.

Tony snorted on a laugh, some of the tension dispelling. "Yeah, Pepper made me," he explained, dangling his legs adorably. "I am forbidden to go barefoot to important meetings."

"I'm with Pepper on that one." Not that Bucky really knew Ms. Potts, but from what little he had heard, she seemed like a very dependable woman. Bucky liked that.

Tony cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on Bucky's chest. "I, uh... brought your ship, by the way. It's in one of the hangars."

The change of subject was a bit sudden, but Bucky was used to it by then. Besides, the mere fact that Tony was trying to keep the conversation going had to be a good sign.

"Thank you," Bucky replied with a crooked smile. "I'm very fond of her."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I— yeah." That someone as confident as Tony struggled to find words had to be a pretty uncommon occurrence, but the fact that he looked _shy_ while doing so was what really set it apart.

Bucky should probably feel mean for finding it endearing. Winter agreed with him, though, so at least he wasn't the only one.

Tony didn't seem to know how to proceed, a small frown settling on his face. Bucky gently nudged Tony's knee.

"I meant it, you know," Bucky said softly, angling his head until he could catch Tony's gaze.

Tony blinked. "Meant what?"

Bucky took a slow, deep breath, trying to gather what little courage he had left. He knew he didn't have much to offer someone like Tony and that they probably didn't have much of a future together, but he refused to be a coward. He literally had nothing to lose from admitting his feelings — especially not when he knew that Tony needed to hear that someone loved him, just the way he was.

Bucky raised his hands to gently cradle Tony's face between his palms, the metal of his thumb brushing against Tony's cheekbone.

"Can I keep you?"

Tony stilled, his eyes wide from disbelief.

Bucky kept going before his self-doubts had time to catch up. "I don't care about your history or your reputation, Tony. I know your last name now, but that doesn't change who you are — and it certainly doesn't make me love you any less."

If Tony had seemed motionless before, he was practically a statue by the end of the last sentence. The breath he let out stuttered, as if he couldn't quite get his lungs to cooperate. Tony's gaze flickered across Bucky's face, trying to catch the lie. Had Bucky been less certain of his own feelings, that might have hurt, but now he simply repeated the words he knew Tony had gotten stuck on.

"I love you."

Tony swallowed, his voice faint. "You— what?"

"I love you, Tony." Bucky couldn't help the reverence in his voice. Happiness was growing inside his chest and he found himself grinning despite Tony's obvious confusion. Bucky hadn't expected it to be so easy to say the words out loud — they had somehow sounded a lot more scary when inside his head.

Tony was staring at Bucky, his eyes wide, emotions whirling past so quickly Bucky couldn't even decipher them. Bucky started wondering if he had accidentally broken Tony's genius brain, but then something seemed to click. Tony opened his mouth and—

"I love you too."

Both of them seemed surprised by Tony's words. Bucky was the one who caught himself quickest, though, a small, hopeful smile spreading on his lips. For his own sake, Bucky hadn't even dared to consider what would happen if Tony loved him back — he hadn't wanted to give himself false hope.

"You do?" he asked, voice soft.

Tony clearly needed a second to gather his wits. There was fear in Tony's eyes, but it was soon pushed aside by reverence.

"Yeah." Tony swallowed thickly before nodding. "I do."

The effect of his words was instantaneous. Tony straightened, a wide smile spreading on his lips, his eyes glowing from warmth. He looked like he had just had a life-changing revelation.

"I love you," he said breathlessly, almost as if he couldn't believe he words himself — as if he had never thought that he would speak them with such sincerity.

Bucky had never seen anything more beautiful than the joyful, almost delirious, smile on Tony's lips.

"So I can keep you?" Bucky asked teasingly, gratified by the way Tony's fingers closed around Bucky's shirt, tugging him closer.

"Fuck yes, you can keep me, James," Tony replied, his words hot against Bucky's lips. "I'll probably drive you mad or make you—"

"No, you won't," Bucky interrupted. "I love you, Tony — that will never change."

Tony let out a trembling breath before nodding. Bucky wasn't sure if Tony actually believed him yet, but all in due time. Bucky would make him understand, even if it took him years to do so.

For now, Bucky decided that he would much rather pull Tony in for a kiss, letting his actions speak instead of his words. Tony practically melted against him, his arms sliding around Bucky's waist, eagerly pulling him closer. The air seemed to vibrate between them, sparks of joy warming Bucky from within. His mind was spinning — his thoughts barely coherent enough to make sense — but he didn't care. All that mattered was Tony and the breathtaking happiness that was rushing through Bucky's veins.

Tony was his. Through some kind of miracle, Tony wanted to stay with him.

Winter was humming contentedly at the back of Bucky's head, his presence warm and comforting.

Despite how rough the past couple of months had been, Bucky realized that he was happy — indescribably and unapologetically happy. He had completed his mission, reunited with Steve, and made peace with the parasite living inside of him. And, somewhere along the way, Bucky had been fortunate enough to find a beautiful, breathtaking star to call his own.

Bucky couldn't believe how lucky he was.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, guys, we're almost done! There's just the epilogue left now, which I'll hopefully be able to post tomorrow or on Sunday. It's fairly short but offers a lot of fluff and a bit of plot.
> 
> When I started writing this fic, I thought it would land somewhere around 50k, but I clearly suck at predictions because it ended up a whopping 112k instead. I wrote a fucking _novel_. I don't regret it one bit, though, because I've had a blast. You have all been so, so kind to me and I'm left speechless by the reception I've gotten. You guys are great and I'm happy to have been able to share this story with you all. Thank you.


	18. Epilogue

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke up with his nose buried in Tony's hair and the soft hum of the arc reactor in his ears. He felt he couldn't be blamed for the smile that spread on his lips, or the fact that he kept his eyes closed, wanting to treasure the moment for as long as possible.

They lay wrapped up in each other, bare skin touching and sheets tangled around their bodies. It was during times like these that Bucky was grateful that Steve had gone out of his way to give Bucky a private cabin on the _Avenger_ , since this was the kind of moment that Bucky didn't want anyone to intrude on.

Tony was obviously awake already, lying on his side and tapping away on his tablet. Bucky's right arm was wrapped around Tony, his fingers resting against the bottom of the arc reactor. The angle had to be awkward for Tony to work in, but he made no attempt to disentangle himself from the embrace.

Winter stirred now that Bucky was awake, but he only sent a soft, lazy greeting before dosing off again.

"Good morning, Buckling," Tony said, voice deliciously rough — probably because of their activities the night before.

Bucky grinned proudly at the memory.

"Don't think I can't tell how smug you are just because I'm not looking at you," Tony deadpanned.

A delighted laugh slipped out of Bucky. He made enough space between them to be able to roll Tony onto his back, getting the sheets even more tangled. Tony let out an adorable little noise of protest at being moved, clutching his tablet in his hands.

"You weren't complainin' last night," Bucky murmured teasingly as he leaned over Tony, nuzzling his cheek. Bucky's hand slid down over Tony's chest to reverently trace the arc reactor.

Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes, though there was a whole lot of fondness in his voice. "I'm trying to work here, you know."

"Mhm," Bucky agreed, lips travelling to place soft, teasing kisses along Tony's neck. The slight hitch of breath that earned him made Bucky's gut clench; Tony made the most delectable noises. "Important things?"

"Yes, important things, Buckling." Tony's attempt at being reprimanding failed rather spectacularly considering how he angled his head to give Bucky more room. "The final draft for the—" another sharp intake of breath, "—uh, contract is due two days from now."

That was indeed important. Steve, Tony, Pepper, and various administrative officers within the Alliance had been working on it for two weeks already, outlining how Tony's resources — mainly the stealth technology produced by Stark Industries — were to be used in the battle against HYDRA. Tony had been adamant on not restarting weapons manufacturing, even for a second HYDRA war, but there were still ways for him to help considering the assets he had at his disposal.

Bucky knew that Tony had earned a great deal of respect from Steve when he refused to make weapons again — for standing up for his principles and what he believed was right. Not to mention that Tony was practically giving the Alliance equipment that would have cost billions had they tried to buy them.

There was no way that anyone could accuse Tony of profiting from this war.

Overall, Tony and Steve still bickered a lot, sometimes disagreeing just for the sake of disagreeing. Bucky could tell that there was no real animosity between them, though, and mostly rolled his eyes in exasperation when they got started. Both Tony and Steve were stubborn idiots but they wanted to do good, and with Pepper and Bucky as a mediators, they were making progress. It was boring but vital work and Bucky could admit that he was relieved to be nothing more than a spectator when it came to formulating the fine print.

Bucky was definitely not cut out for such delicate matters.

So maybe he shouldn't distract one of the few people who were, even if kissing Tony was downright addicting. Bucky pulled back with a reluctant sigh and settled down on his side, propped up on his elbow with his head resting in his hand.

"You've finally managed to agree on something?" he asked. Most of the things the others discussed during the meetings flew right over Bucky's head.

Tony nodded, placing the tablet on his stomach. "Yeah, we're getting there." He reached up, tracing Bucky's jaw with his fingertip. "This war is going to be very different from the last one..."

Bucky caught Tony's hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. "I know."

This time, they knew more about HYDRA's methods of brainwashing, like the fact that the host was, in all probability, still alive — if dormant. Steve had made it clear early on that they would make efforts to capture rather than kill the assimilated HYDRA soldiers, which required a completely different tactic than they had used during the Great War.

Instead of big battles where entire fleets were destroyed, they would plan small, focused attacks and stealthy infiltrations — during which Tony's technology would be vital. The Alliance would concentrate their efforts on the high-ranking officers, since they were the ones with actual power. Without anyone to command them, the HYDRA soldiers would be essentially harmless, unable to make decisions of their own.

Whether or not the assimilated soldiers would recover like Bucky had was impossible to say, but everyone agreed that the death count was to be kept at a minimum.

"Speaking of the war," Bucky began, "Steve wants to meet us."

Tony raised an eyebrow, turning onto his side to face Bucky. The tablet slid off Tony's stomach, slotting into the narrow space between them.

"Us? As in you _and_ me?" Tony pursed his lips. "Should I be worried? Is this where he threatens me with death and murder if I break your heart?"

Winter snapped to attention at the mere mention of someone hurting Tony, though he didn't start growling just yet.

"No, of course not," Bucky soothed, for both Winter and Tony's benefit.

"How can you be so sure?"

Was Tony actually sounding a bit worried? Bucky probably shouldn't have found that as adorable as he did.

He hooked a hand behind Tony's neck, pulling him in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Because if he does, I'll kick his ass," Bucky explained. There was a not-so-surprising surge of approval from Winter, making Bucky smile. "And Winter will help."

Tony snorted on a laugh. "My heroes."

"Oh, you love us," Bucky countered, grinning widely.

Softness overtook Tony's face, his smile fond. "That I do."

The surge of happiness and love Bucky felt was equal parts his own and Winter's. Neither of them would ever tire of hearing Tony telling them things like that, and it took a couple of seconds before Bucky was able to get his brain back on track, distracted by the warmth in Tony's eyes.

Bucky did that a lot, admittedly. He just couldn't believe how lucky he was to have someone like Tony — to be _loved_ by someone like Tony. So what if Bucky found himself looking like a lovesick fool on a daily basis? Who could blame him?

Tony seemed to find it flattering, if anything.

"Meeting. With Steve," Bucky reminded himself, giving Tony a playful push to make him stop looking so damn smug. "He didn't say what it's about, but we should expect the director of S.H.I.E.L.D and the Widow to be there, and some others Steve didn't mention by name."

"How secretive of him. It sounds like a strategy meeting." Tony frowned. "So why am I invited? I mean, I've been known to profit from wars, but I don't actually know how to fight them."

Bucky still wasn't used to how casually — and derogatorily — Tony referred to his own past. Now that Bucky knew the truth, Tony wasn't afraid to toss out self-deprecating comments that were harsh enough to make Bucky flinch. The worst part was that Tony wasn't looking for reassurance or asking Bucky to disagree; Tony genuinely thought that he deserved to be despised.

One day Tony might forgive himself enough to stop being so hard on himself, but Bucky could tell it wouldn't happen anytime soon — much like he and Winter would need time to deal with their own feelings of guilt.

"I don't know," Bucky replied, keeping his tone neutral. "But I'm guessing it has to do with some kind of clandestine missions, if the Widow is involved."

"That makes even _less_ sense, Buckling." Tony seemed to be on the verge of laughing. "I would be a _terrible_ spy — and not only because half of the galaxy already knows what I look like."

Bucky chose not to point out that Tony could obviously fool quite a few, as long as he didn't wear expensive clothes or style his hair.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. "Or maybe they're putting together a super secret boyband and want me to be their tech support?" As always, Tony's mind was a peculiar place — but all the more fascinating for it.

Bucky couldn't help laughing, smiling fondly as he leaned in for another kiss. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, doll," he replied.

In all honesty, Tony might be closer to the truth than he knew.

Steve had been awfully discreet about it, but he had asked Bucky more than one question about Tony's suit. It was apparently common knowledge that Tony had it, but he had been able to hide exactly what it was capable of — even from S.H.I.E.L.D. The schematics and already manufactured suit belonged to Tony, and he wasn't sharing.

So Steve was trying to gather intel, and it definitely wasn't on S.H.I.E.L.D's behalf. That left personal reasons — which wasn't particularly likely — or Steve was scouting for talents. Bucky was willing to bet on the latter, mostly because he had been there when Steve adopted soldiers left and right during the Great War and he recognized the signs. Bucky wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, his wish to keep Tony safe clashing with how proud he was of Tony's accomplishments.

Tony was an undeniably valuable ally, not only because of his wealth. He was smart, intuitive, and resourceful, and while he might not be trained for battle like Bucky and Winter were, Tony could still handle himself in a fight — especially when equipped with his suit. On top of that, he was also self-sacrificing enough to almost rival Steve, and genuinely wanted to make the galaxy a better place.

Steve had to have noticed that, and was _definitely_ planning something. Exactly what, Bucky couldn't say, but Tony would no doubt be a part of it — as would Bucky. For now, he decided to simply wait and see; they would find out soon enough.

A soft touch against Bucky's bare chest drew him back to the present.

"Sooo, when exactly is this meeting?" Tony asked, his tone making it abundantly clear what he hoped the answer would be. Well, that and the look in his eyes. And the way his fingertips wandered enticingly over Bucky's skin.

"Later today," Bucky replied. " _Much_ later."

"Wonderful." Tony grinned. His hand settled on the side of Bucky's neck, his thumb brushing the underside of his jaw.

"I thought you were working?" Bucky pointed out, mostly to buy himself time to rescue the tablet trapped between them — it would be a shame to break it. He nearly fumbled when he reached out to place it on the bedside table, having to lean over Tony to do so — which Tony took as an opportunity to lick Bucky's collarbone.

That was _extremely_ distracting.

"Work can wait," Tony replied, lips tickling Bucky's skin.

Bucky decided to agree.

There was an exasperated huff from Winter — who clearly wasn't amused by Bucky and Tony's libidos — and Bucky felt a sting of guilt when Winter retreated. Still, he figured he could make it up to him later. Another couple of days and Bucky would have worked up the courage to knowingly let Winter have control, which would no doubt cheer him up.

But that was for later.

Now Bucky leaned down for a kiss, Tony's arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Tony's skin was warm under Bucky's fingertips, his hand exploring the familiar dips and curves. No matter how many nights he spent pressed up against Tony, holding him and listening to his soft breaths, Bucky would never get enough. He would never tire of the searing need he felt whenever their lips met, or the flutter in his chest when Tony smiled that fond, loving smile of his.

Bucky would never get enough of Tony.

He still wasn't sure what the future held, but there was hope, despite the approaching war. Tony loved them and wanted to stay. Steve was still Bucky's best friend, safe and grounding as always. Winter was growing, learning about himself and the world around him, and Bucky might finally be able to work through his guilt and reclaim the life HYDRA had taken from him.

There was hope for the future and things to look forward to.

But first, they had a war to win.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we're done! Feels kind of bittersweet, doesn't it? Either way, I hope you've enjoyed the ride! I've had an absolute blast and I want to thank you all for the lovely comments, kudos, and subscriptions. I had no idea people would enjoy this story so much! There will in all probability pop up a bonus chapter or two in the future, because I still have some things to tell (and would love to write something from Tony's POV) but I can't promise when or what they'll be about.
> 
> I want to give a TREMENDOUS thank you to my two betas [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and [imafriendlydalek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek). They have been absolutely amazing during this process and deserve a medal for putting up with my whining and weird deadlines. And, of course, a thank you to [Kitty_Kinneas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Kinneas) for being my giftee during the WinterIron Holiday Exchange and coming up with the prompt that sparked this story. 
> 
> Also, now that this monster is finished, I'm going to start uploading the fics I've written for the [ImagineTonyandBucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/) blog, so there will be more WinterIron from me to look forward to! You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/), if that's your thing!
> 
> Thank you so much for coming with me on this journey — it's been amazingly fun. Thank you <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What Comes After Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008813) by [Ukiikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukiikun/pseuds/Ukiikun)




End file.
